Life Continues
by 104Arianna
Summary: After getting shot while protecting John, Sherlock finds himself in hospital, unable to communicate with anyone...when his nemesis reappeares, followed by kidnapping, fights, and more of the great game. Sequel to Neccessary Risk, but can be read without.
1. Can You Hear Me?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock **- just the dvd box set of season 1.

**NOTE - Before reading this story, I suggest you first read "Necessary Risk". I suppose this could be read completely on its own, but it's a follow on from that story. I would like to give a shout out to the first 13 people to have reviewed "Necessary Risk" as it was because of their encouragement that I decided to continue the storyline. Thank you! =D  
Any mistakes found are completely my own.**

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

As he woke up, he realized the beeping noise of his heart continued. That warm hand was still in his, but he couldn't remember who it belonged to.

**Beep. Beep.**

That was not the only sound in the room. There were two others, two people talking.

"The area around the wound managed to get infected before we could treat it, and he had a fever. The infection is Peritonitis. I assume your familiar with it?" said a unfamiliar voice.

Someone else in the room must have nodded their affirmative, as the voice continued.

"What has happened is that this infection caused his fever, which then developed into a state of unconsciousness. Unfortunately, Mr Holmes then slipped into a coma. The Peritonitis is currently being treated with antibiotics, so that should clear up soon. I am afraid, however, that we don't know when he'll wake up from the coma. It could still be a few days, maybe weeks".

"Thanks anyway. He would've died if you hadn't been so quick with getting him to surgery".

"Me? You're the one who saved his life, Dr Watson. You quickly helped stop the bleeding, and managed to keep him awake for as long as you could. If you hadn't managed to keep awake for that little bit longer we might have lost him".

Then he heard a door being opened, then closing again. Someone was still in the room, only one of the voices had left. The one that was closest to him - the one holding his hand - had belonged to, who the unfamiliar voice had called, Dr Watson. He was still there, still holding onto his hand.

"Come on, Sherlock. You need to wake up…" began the Doctor. "You should see Mycroft. You think you two hate each other…. He's worried, Sherlock…we all are. Lestrade searched the building opposite the flat. It's been abandoned ever since the explosion, from the Carl Powers case, so it was free for the sniper to use. The sniper's body was found…apparently Moriarty was pretty pissed off for you being shot. He killed him…so much for not getting his hands dirty" he could almost hear John's smile.

He wanted to reply, but all he could do was sit there and listen. His eyelids wouldn't open, his mouth wouldn't respond.

"Jeez, Sherlock. When you wake up I'm going to kill you" he chuckled. "Next time, just yell at me to move or duck. I can do that as well as the next person, you know".

He felt himself slipping back into wherever he had partially woken up from. Back towards the darkness….

He woke up again, and knew that there was someone else in the room too. John's hand was still in his, but there was extra weight on the bed near the bottom of his bed.

"John…you need to get some rest" said a voice he recognized.

**(JOHN'S POV)**

"I have done, Mycroft-".

"Not here, John. You haven't moved from that chair, apart from when you have to. Go home. Eat, sleep, wash. Just take a break or something. Sherlock wouldn't want you to put yourself through this" Mycroft interrupted.

There was no answer. John didn't bother replying, and Mycroft didn't bother arguing. He knew that John wouldn't leave, but John agreed - he needed to eat, sleep and wash. He silently thanked Mycroft as he left, for getting Sherlock a private room, one that also had a bathroom that had a shower. Mrs Hudson had been round with a change of clothes, so he decided to take advantage and get washed and changed. He didn't want to leave Sherlock alone, so he went to the cafeteria on the same level of the hospital to get some food - even if it were horrible hospital food.

John returned to his previous position, but was worried when he noticed that Sherlock looked a little paler, and his heart rate had sped up.

**(SHERLOCK'S POV) - Ten Minutes Earlier**

He missed John's presence. It was comforting to know that he was there. When he wasn't, there was nothing for him to do but lie on his bed with nothing but silence.

It was some time later that he heard the door to his room reopen, and someone walked in. The footsteps sounded confident, loud, like he knew Sherlock was listening. He could sense someone at the side of his bed, looking at him.

"Well, my dear, it looks as though you're healing nicely. I would apologize about your getting shot, but it was really your own fault".

The voice sent a shiver down his spine, his blood draining from his face, and he heard his heart rate speed up slightly on the monitor. He heard Moriarty chuckle lightly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you…not yet anyway. I'm not even going to hurt your pet. You'll need him to help you for the next case I send your way…" he continued. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. And to let you know I'll be in touch".

He felt a hand push away from strands of his hair from his face, and wanted so badly to be able to move away. He heard the footsteps retreat, and heard the door once more. Moriarty left. It was only a moment later when he heard the door open another time, and heard his heart speed up again.

He soon realized that this was not Moriarty, it was John.

"Sherlock? You in there? Can you answer me?" John's voice asked, as he gripped his hand. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, Sherlock".

'_Cliché' _Sherlock thought, but tried anyway. He wanted anyway to tell John he was okay, and to warn him that Moriarty was close by.

**(JOHN'S POV)**

"Come on, Sherlock. Just squeeze my hand…".

He looked down from Sherlock's face to the hand he was holding. Nothing had happened. He was about to sigh his disappointment.

Sherlock's fingers twitched.


	2. Waking Up

Hi again! So happy to find everyone enjoying this! It makes any bad days suddenly not seem so bad - the consequences of school life, I'm afraid. Been so busy at school - so many prelims etc that I need a holiday. Thank god there's one coming up! I'm not entirely sure if I like the title of this story - 'Life Continues' so any recommendations for a new one would be fab! This might be a little OOC. Thanks to everyone for all the great reviews!

I've got to thank **TheScienceODeduction **for a few ideas I put in - or will do in later chapters. I hadn't even thought about what I could do in future chapters until I read your comment. So thanks a bunch!

**Disclaimer - as always, do not own.**If I did, would I honestly be sitting here writing fan fiction, when I could just write the damn episodes? - which is probably a good reason for me not to own 'Sherlock'.

Any and all mistakes are completely my own.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

He hadn't imagined that. Sherlock's fingers had moved. They had moved.

"Sherlock? Come on, Sherlock…".

He looked back to Sherlock, and felt like giving in to disappointment again, when he felt Sherlock's hand close around his. He looked at the hand. Sherlock was squeezing his hand. A small smile reached his lips as he squeezed back.

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

He'd managed it! He was able to grip John's hand enough to get his attention. He felt John tugging back at his grip, and felt safer. He kept trying to open his eyes, or speak, or move, or something. He felt his toes twitch as he tried to move. A groan made its way up his throat.

He could hear John calling for a doctor, as he continued, trying to open his eyes.

He did it! A crack of light made its way through his eyelids, but it was so bright he immediately closed them again, and felt his head turning away from the light.

"Sherlock…".

That did it. His voice was encouraging him, telling him to keep going. He tried to open his eyes one more time.

He could see John standing over him, smiling brilliantly. He couldn't help but smile back at him, even though it hurt to do so. He knew that John could tell he was in pain, but didn't feel the need to hide it. He felt John's grip on his hand strengthen, as John pressed the call button.

A few seconds later, a nurse came into the room. She checked his vitals, and nodded her approval of them. She told them that the doctor would be round as soon as he could, and that Sherlock should rest until he came. She left the room, checking his chart before she got to the door.

"Sherlock…thank god you're awake…".

"John…" he croaked.

"It's going to be okay, Sherlock…just rest for now".

He wanted to sleep, he never realized how tired he was until now. Then he remembered.

"Moriarty!" he cried, jumping forwards, grabbing John's arm.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. Mycroft trying to find him. He won't get away-".

"No, John, he was-" he cut off as he hissed in pain. His stitches had come undone when he had jumped forwards, and now his wound was staining the bed sheet a whole different colour.

John jumped up from the bed and ran to the door. He opened it and shouted for a doctor, then ran back to Sherlock.

"John -".

"Just lie back. The doctor's going to be here in a moment, just lie back".

"No, John-".

"Sherlock, your stitches have come out, you need to lie back".

"John, listen to me, please!" he managed, almost exhausting himself over that one sentence.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

John was stunned into silence. Sherlock never said please. As John listened to what Sherlock said next, three people hurried into the room behind him.

"He was here, John. Moriarty was here…"he gasped.

John slowly lowered Sherlock back down onto the bed as he passed out. And a doctor and nurse took over, looking at the wound, cleaning up the blood. John was too shocked to notice that the third person who had walked in the room was Lestrade. Too distracted to realize that Sherlock was being taken back to surgery. Too overcome to notice that Sherlock's blood was covering his hands again.

He looked at Lestrade across the now empty room.

"He was here. He was in here…".

Lestrade looked as anxious and as nervous as he felt.

He reached in his pocket and phoned Mycroft.

"John? What is it? Is Sherlock okay?" he started, without saying hello.

John would have smiled if the situation had been different. Even though the two brothers had always seemed to be at war with each other, he could hear the genuine concern and worry in Mycroft's voice.

"He woke up, he started talking-".

"Good, that's good".

"Mycroft…something's happened. It turns out that…Moriarty was here. He somehow got into Sherlock's room. I don't know what happened, but he was here, and while Sherlock was warning me, he pulled his stitches. He's been taken back to surgery, he was bleeding rather badly".

There was no answer, and John thought he wasn't going to get a reply.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll find out how he got in. This will not happen again".

"It better not. I thought you'd have had security around here or something?".

"I did, Moriarty is obviously more clever than I'd like to give him credit for".

"Don't underestimate him, Mycroft. Believe me, that's the worst thing anyone can ever do".

It was just over an hour later when Sherlock got out of surgery. He was being taken back to his private room, while his doctor - Dr. Connors - spoke to John and Lestrade.

"He lost a lot of blood. When he pulled the stitches, the wound completely opened up again. There was one complication with his surgery. He went into Hypovolaemic shock. We were able to treat it with an emergency blood transfusion, once the wound had been surgically repaired" He explained. "He'll be extremely weak when he wakes up, so I need to ask you to make sure that he doesn't pull his stitches again. You are the Doctor that Mr Holmes was talking about?".

"Um, Yeah. Mr Holmes told you about me?".

"The, uh, other Mr Holmes. Mycroft".

"Now it makes more sense" John replied, smiling slightly.

"Well, if he does wake up, I'm sure you know how to take care of him until I or another doctor arrives. He'll be in better hands with you around" he continued.

John and Lestrade thanked Dr. Connors, and went back to Sherlock's room, as the doctor returned to his rounds. Sherlock was looking even paler than before, but was sleeping peacefully.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who keeps reading, you fab! **

**For those who want to know, Hypovolaemic shock is basically a state of shock caused by various things: dehydration, vomiting, severe burns, drugs, and bleeding. It's common during surgery because of all the anaesthetics that are used, and/or in-operation bleeding. Symptoms are elevated pulse, lower b.p, paleness, dizziness - basically all the signs common to shock. There are four different stages of this type of shock, obviously each stage gets worse as the volume of blood loss increases. If you want more information, just search it up on the internet or in a book - you'll find it's pretty popular. **


	3. Mask

Hay, hi and hello! Hope everyone's good, I'm ecstatic! Just been accepted into the university I wanted the most to be accepted into! Woo hoo! Made me fly higher than a kite when I got the email.

Thanks for the reviews!

**Disclaimer: Do not own 'Sherlock' ****- **the colloquialism 'well, duh!' comes to mind.

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Waking up again felt like a much worse experience. He didn't want to wake up. He could not be bothered with the effort. It was an effort just trying to open his eyes. His muscles ached, making him feel as though he had just ran several miles or something. The pain in his stomach was almost equalled by that in his head.

Groaning, he opened his eyes, and found John sitting next to his bed, wide awake, while Lestrade slept over two chairs in the corner.

John shifted forwards, and placed a hand on Sherlock's arm.

"Careful, Sherlock. You open that wound again, and the doctor's going to kill me" John said quietly, as to not wake Lestrade.

Sherlock looked over at Lestrade, then back to John.

"Moriarty-".

"Mycroft's searching the CCTV cameras in the area and in the hospital. He's trying to find out how he got in".

"Through the front door, where else? This is a hospital, not a police station, no one is on the look out for him" Sherlock replied.

"Yeah, but Mycroft wants to know how he got passed his security".

"Probably not that hard. If I can do it, I bet he could" Sherlock commented. "Besides the fact that Mycroft's employees are usually distracted, even when on the job".

John's thoughts immediately went to the woman he knew only as 'Anthea'. Thinking about her, Sherlock definitely had a point. When he met her for the second time, just after the taxi driver case, she couldn't remember meeting him, even thought it had only been earlier that same day.

John chuckled slightly. Sherlock smiled slightly, letting his mask drop.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked.

"You don't remember?".

"That's why I asked, you idiot" Sherlock replied.

John was about to be offended, as he usually was when Sherlock called him that, but he saw a faint smile on Sherlock's face, which let him know he was only joking.

"You jumped forwards to warn me about Moriarty, and your wound reopened. You had to be taken back to the surgery, and you went into shock. But the doctor treated it, and you should start getting better, given that you don't decide to start bleeding all over the place again".

"It's not like I did it on purpose, John-".

Sherlock was interrupted as Lestrade stirred in the corner.

"I almost forgot he was even here, he's been asleep for ages. Mycroft and he have been working together. Lestrade's entire department have agreed to help find and track down Moriarty. So Mycroft's people have been tracking him and Lestrade's have been going where to where they've tracked a lead".

"Lestrade's department have agreed to help?" Sherlock repeated. "How very…thoughtful of them".

"They have actually been helpful, Sherlock. Not completely useless, believe it or not" John said, guessing at Sherlock's thoughts.

"That's not what I was thinking" Sherlock replied. "I was…surprised that Donovan and Anderson agreed. If anything, I would've expected them to want to help Moriarty kill me".

"Well…they don't exactly like Moriarty after all those bombs, Sherlock. And they probably do realize how helpful in Lestrade's cases you've been - not that they'd ever admit it of course".

"Nah, that will never happen".

Sherlock and John looked to Lestrade, who had decided to input his comment as he stood up to stretch his legs.

"Well, they might be grateful, but they're opinion of you outweighs their gratefulness so.." Lestrade continued, seeing their faces looking in his direction. "How are you, Sherlock".

"Fine, obviously" Sherlock replied.

John couldn't help but notice how the mask came back into place when Lestrade had woken. Even so, he could still tell that he was a little angry at himself for letting it drop at all.

"Well, I best be off. I've been asleep too long all ready. I thought I asked you to wake me up and hour ago, John?" Lestrade asked, looking at John.

"You did, but I thought you needed the sleep".

"And where do you get off telling me how much sleep I need?".

"I am a doctor, Inspector" John laughed, getting a laugh from Lestrade as well.

The laughter stopped when John received a text.

**_John,  
We need to move Sherlock.  
Not safe in London.  
I'll arrange everything.  
Tell him he has no choice.  
Mycroft._**

"Looks like we're leaving London for a while-".

"What? Why?" Sherlock asked.

"It's not safe for you in London, Sherlock-".

"And somewhere else in Britain is going to be less dangerous?"

"You have no choice in the matter, Sherlock. I'm agreeing with Mycroft, so it's two against one-".

"Three against one" interrupted Lestrade, smiling as he saw Sherlock's face as he realized he was completely outnumbered.

"So there you are, Sherlock. We're going, like it or not".

Sherlock took it all in, trying to think of a way that he could get out of it. All he wanted was to go home.

"We?" Sherlock asked, looking back to John.

"Don't think I'm going to let you go alone, do you? Besides, you need a doctor with you. I'm available, so why not?".

Sherlock smiled, allowing John to realize that he was going to be alright.

* * *

**I know that this chapter doesn't really have much happening in it, but hey! Most of it is just dialogue. Don't worry guys it'll get better. Thanks for the reviews! Reminds me that I should keep going, and a few comments give me ideas about what I can do in later chapters! =D**

**I'm afraid it'll be at least a week before I upload again - going away and going to be too busy to do anything. Sorry :( It might help me to get more written though. :)**


	4. Car Ride

Hi again to everyone! I was on holiday when I wrote this, but busy doing reports for class - 3 of them, each around 20 pages long min! ugh! Oh well over by the time I get this posted hopefully. =D  
Sorry it's a bit late - couldn't get logged on on the 11th - grr! :D

**Disclaimer: Do NOT own 'Sherlock'**** - **or any other type of TV show, for that matter.

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

John noticed that while Sherlock didn't seem happy about the relocation - he 'had other things to be getting on with' - he went along with it. He was smart enough to see the better option, even if it didn't make him happy. One thing John didn't know was that Sherlock preferred this option because not only did it keep himself safe, it also protected John better.

Mycroft would probably have guards set up twenty-four-seven, and CCTV around the area - not that that helped before - but this time, they would know to be on the lookout. They obviously had not expected Moriarty to just walk into the hospital and talk to Sherlock - not in public. He was clearly mad enough to do so, therefore the guards would be paying better attention for then on.

This was how Sherlock and John found themselves in the back of a fancy black car, headed for god knows where. Most of the ride was sat through in silence, and they had almost reached their destination - according to the driver.

Sherlock still didn't know how long it had been since he had been shot. He could not remember how long ago it was since John had received the text from Mycroft, informing them of their rearrangement. He had kept falling asleep in the hospital, and was never sure if it were the next day or not - being shot and having to go to surgery twice made him a bit disorientated. He voiced his question to John. He had been awake for a week, and had been shot three weeks before that.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Such a waste of time. There are so many things I could have gotten done during that time. Shame…" Sherlock replied.

"That's your reaction to being shot? 'Shame'?" John asked. "Of all the things you could say, that's what you go for?".

"What should I have said?".

"It's not what you said, it's how you're reacting to it. You don't seem at all bothered by the fact that you've just been shot, and almost died from it. You'd hardly know the difference, if it weren't for a little bullet-shaped scar on your stomach".

"It's not exactly the first time I've been shot, John. The most serious time, sure, but not the first. Besides, there is no point on dwelling on the past if there is nothing to learn from it".

"Nothing to learn from it? How about learning this - next time don't push me out of the way of a goddamn bullet".

"You would most certainly have died if I hadn't, John -".

"You don't know-".

"It was not aimed at me, and I was lucky. If that bullet had hit you on the course it was on, it would have hit you in the chest, not the stomach, and would most definitely have killed you -".

"And that's a good enough reason to risk your own life?".

"Of course it is".

The argument had been building up, until the point where Sherlock had pretty much shouted his reply. He had been avoiding John's face, looking out of the window, but John's question had gotten to him. He had turned and said it straight to him.

An awkward silence followed, in which John could only stare at Sherlock. Sherlock's final comment had made him speechless. He continued to star at Sherlock, and Sherlock looked away, back out the window, hiding his face.

"Sherlock…look, I'm grateful for you saving my life. I just wish you wouldn't do so by putting yourself in harms way. That would be a waste, Sherlock. If you die, who's going to stop all the criminals in London? Who's going to help out Lestrade? Who's going to annoy Mycroft, just because they can?".

John got a chuckle from Sherlock at that last one, and took this as encouragement.

"If it came down to it, I would rather be the one hospitalised, especially if it were my life on the line in the first place" he finished.

"I can't accept that. Never can, never will. So just don't try and change my mind, John. If the same sort of situation came up again, I'd do the exact same thing, no difference-".

"Sherlock-".

"Please, John" Sherlock interrupted, closing his eyes and laying his head back. "Don't waste your time".

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

He didn't know how to reply. That was the second time in the space of a week that Sherlock had said 'please' and although it was a completely mundane thing, it made John feel uncomfortable. It was weird, like something was broken.

He was still looking at Sherlock, who was falling asleep, trying to find a good enough retort, but found none. He looked away, and thought to himself, realizing that Sherlock would not be good for conversation for a while.

He didn't understand why Sherlock had pushed him out of the way back at the flat. He still didn't - at least not entirely. He had known that Sherlock never cared about anyone, and the only things he did care about was a good murder, his violin, and his experiments. Was it possible that Sherlock cared about him?

No, never. Sherlock was a sociopath, he admitted it himself - in fact he encourages the idea of being one. He couldn't care, it was impossible. Yet here he was, protecting John as if he did care.

'_Maybe he's not so much of a sociopath as he thinks he is' John thought. He kept his smile in check in case Sherlock saw, realizing that perhaps it was possible for the detached and unemotional detective to care after all._

* * *

**Hi again everyone. Not really a cliffhanger here - im such a fan of them it's actually surprising I haven't! Then again I think the next chapter is going to end in one - it'll either be chapter 5 or 6. **

**Mwah ha ha! - couldn't resist it, sorry =D**


	5. Safe House

Woo hoo! Chapter five! I had a bit of fun writing this chapter - mainly because I didn't have to think of anything hard to write - action scenes etc. It's mainly just relationship progress I suppose. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer - You guessed it! I do not own 'Sherlock'**…drat!

Just a little note, at the end of chapter 4, I must have accidently left the italics on, and now an entire sentence is written like that. It's really annoying me, so if I edit it/change it and you get an email about a new chapter 4, that's the reason why - you have no idea how little things like that bug me. It's okay if someone else does it, but when it's me I feel like I have to get it perfect or something. I sware I have ocd when it comes to things - that are not located inside my bedroom of course :D

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

The car pulled up two hours later, on the drive of a large house in the middle of nowhere. For the past hour, there had been nothing but fields and trees. It was impossible to know where they were, as there were no obvious landmarks. Only the driver knew where they were, and because Sherlock has been falling asleep every now and then, he doubted he had been able to keep a map in his head - which would annoy him to no end. Sherlock liked knowing where he was at all times. Not knowing made him feel vulnerable - not something he would admit though.

There was nothing around for absolute miles, preventing Sherlock from leaving whenever he felt like it - probably the reason Mycroft chose the place. Sometimes Sherlock thought that his brother knew him too well for his liking.

Getting out of the car, both Sherlock and John stretched their legs - several hours in a car was doing them no favours. Upon entering, Sherlock found himself looking at his brother.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock began.

"Well, this is my safe house, Sherlock. You should be thankful I didn't decided you would be better off out of the country" he replied.

"You wouldn't be able to get me out, believe me" Sherlock retorted. "Having to leave London is bad enough, Mycroft".

"It is for your own safety, Sherlock, you must see that".

"Goodbye, Mycroft" Sherlock coldly replied, sighing slightly.

He turned and left the room, walking through one of the oak doors into the living room.

"Typical of my brother. Try to help him, and it's like you're insulting his intelligence" Mycroft said to John.

"He just misses London. I think he feels safer there".

"That's why I'm glad you decided to come along. Without you, I don't think he would have left".

John nodded, knowing just how true that was. Sherlock was very stubborn when it came to doing things other people wanted him to do - unless it involved solving a challenging case. Mycroft gave his thanks to John, and left, using his bright yellow umbrella as a walking stick - not that he needed it.

John followed Sherlock into the living room, but was unable to find him. Taking one look around the room, he knew why. Not only was it part living room, part library - making the room huge - there were several other doors inside. Sherlock had most likely already gone through one to explore his new surroundings, and to get his bearings. John reached inside his pocket for his mobile.

"Sherlock, where are you? Mycroft's left, you can come out of hiding now" he said when Sherlock picked up.

"I'm not in hiding, John. I'm not some child playing hide and seek. Although it is very tempting - there is twelve bedrooms, five bathrooms and two en-suites. Not to mention the kitchen's, living rooms, libraries and studies" Sherlock replied.

"Wow…this place is bigger than I thought, and I thought this library was big….So where are you? You shouldn't exhaust yourself, Sherlock, you need to lie down".

"I was deciding on which room I would use, actually. First floor, east corridor. It's pretty much just above the library your in" he replied, hanging up.

John made his way up the stairs - which he found behind door number three. When he finally entered the correct room, he found Sherlock staring out the window at the courtyard that lay below.

"Sherlock? You okay?" John started.

"Fine. I do wish people wouldn't ask that. It gets annoying after a while" Sherlock replied.

"Very well…"

"I think I'll go for a walk. Don't worry, John, I won't exhaust myself. I'll sit down if I get tired. Just need to get a map of this place. If I don't, I'll probably get lost within a day of being here" Sherlock continued, walking past John and towards the door.

"I'll be in the library. The one downstairs" John added, remembering that there was more than one library.

It was not until dinner that John saw Sherlock again. He had come down for a bite to eat - a small one at that - then left again, saying barely anything.

John went up to Sherlock's room later that evening to check in on him, and found him already asleep in bed, so John left. He didn't notice how, once he'd left, Sherlock opened his eyes, no longer pretending to be asleep.

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Hearing John enter his own room - which was next door - Sherlock slipped out of bed, still dressed, and walked quietly towards the window. He looked out across the garden, waiting for something to move, something to show itself, something to happen. Normally he wouldn't be apprehensive about the darkness and the silence. Tonight he hated it. He expected something to happen, something he would not like. He kept his eyes on the shadows, waiting for Moriarty to walk towards him out of them.

He kept an eye out all night. He knew that Mycroft's men would be keeping an eye out for anything happening too - wherever they were - but Sherlock did not trust them to do their job properly. They would easily underestimate Moriarty. They would probably even underestimate his employees. There was nothing that Moriarty could not get passed if he put his mind to it. Sherlock knew that Moriarty was as smart as him, and he knew that he would be able to get passed Mycroft men and leave the safe house whenever he felt like it - isolated or not. Knowing both these things, he realized that Moriarty could do the same.

Boredom slowly crept in, and he decided to leave his room - head to the library and read or something. The house was eerie, and creaked with every movement. It didn't have that warm and cosy feeling that Baker Street had - much the opposite. No one had been there in a long time, leaving the house unloved, dusty, and empty.

'_Why does Mycroft need a safe house this big? It's not like he actually uses it' _Sherlock wondered.

Opening the door to the library, he immediately knew someone was inside.

There, in the corner, someone sat in an armchair, legs crossed. His heart stopped for moment, until he saw the umbrella leaning against the chair beside the hidden man. Mycroft.

"I thought you had left, Mycroft".

"I thought you were getting some sleep".

"I don't need it. Besides, it's kind of hard to sleep knowing that there's a murderer following your every move, etcetera" Sherlock replied.

"Worried, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

"No, of course not. More…concerned. If I have to stay here for a considerable amount of time due to Moriarty's incessant games I'll never get any work done".

"And the fact that your life is on the line does not concern you?".

"When has it ever?"

"What about John's?" Mycroft asked, looking at his brother expectantly.

Sherlock hesitated.

"His life should not be on the line, but it is. I would rather it was not, but unfortunately if I ask Moriarty to leave John alone that might make matters worse" Sherlock replied, with emphasis on 'might', a touch of scarcasm in his tone.

"Sherlock-".

"Why are you here, Mycroft? Come to give me sound words of advice? You're not going about it very well, even I would probably do a better job-".

"I worry, Sherlock. You have a habit of getting yourself into trouble that is hard to get out of. This is one of those moments. Moriarty is dangerous, to you and John. My men are trying to track him, but unfortunately he's incredibly smart for his age, as well as mischievous, much like you used to be - and still are, sometimes".

Sherlock scowled.

"Don't look like that, Sherlock, you know it's true".

"I was never mischievous, just rather challenging and hyper active" Sherlock replied, smiling slightly.

"That's true. You were always too energetic as a child, always running around" Mycroft agreed.

Sherlock felt oddly relaxed in his brothers presence. Just like how it used to be when they were children. He felt like they were back like they used to be, but kept his smile in check.

"Just be careful, Sherlock. I know that if you set your mind on something, you'll do it. Just make sure that the one thing you set your mind on is staying alive. If not for me, then for John".

"It's not me Moriarty wants dead, Mycroft" Sherlock interrupted, too late in realizing that he'd said it instead of thinking it.

"What do you mean? If it's not you that he wants dead, then why were you shot? Why does he keep coming after you?" Mycroft asked.

That was when Sherlock realized. John had not explained fully what had happened that night at Baker Street. He had not completely explained the fact that Sherlock was shot protecting him.

"I wasn't supposed to get shot…John was. The gun was aimed at him, and I pushed him out of it's path" Sherlock eventually replied, leaving his brother in shock - something that didn't happen often. "He doesn't want me dead, Mycroft. He'll go after John before he goes after me".

Sherlock had started walking away from his brother, over to the window. He folded his arms and leaned on the windowsill.

"You pushed John out of the way? Why didn't John explain this? He said that Moriarty was threatening you, and that someone across the street had a gun aimed into the apartment. I assumed it was aimed at you".

"No, you assume incorrectly. It was aimed at him. Moriarty was threatening me, just not with my own life…" Sherlock continued, trailing off towards the end.

Nothing was said for a while. Mycroft moved over towards his younger brother.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. We'll catch him. He won't get anywhere near you or John" he finally said.

"How many times-? I'm not worried, Mycroft. I can't be worried about people, remember?".

"Sherlock, I've grown up with you. You may be able to pull on a perfect unemotional mask and fool everyone on the planet, but you will never fool me, I'm your brother. You're worried about John, there's no shame to admitting that - not that I'm asking you to" he added, seeing Sherlock's face. "I just wanted to let you know that you shouldn't be. I've got twenty-four hour security on this place, and several escape plans in the unlikely event that anything does happen".

'_That's reassuring' _Sherlock thought.

Mycroft soon left again, leaving Sherlock alone in the library.

Neither of them knew that John had entered the room around the same time that Sherlock had, standing at the furthest away door. He looked on in wonder and disbelief, as Sherlock stood leaning against the window frame, staring out at the darkness.

* * *

**Well, thats chapter five over with. No cliffy here, but there will definitly be one soon enough - it's probably going to annoy a lot of you, so im going to say 'sorry' now in case I forget later - SORRY! :D**

**Hope you guys liked it!**


	6. Distancing

**Disclaimer: Do not own 'Sherlock' -** blah blah blah

Can't believe I wrote this in stead of doing my Biology report - although admittedly all I have to do is add a picture. Anyway, without further delay or me rambling on about something unimportant, here's chapter 6. Enjoy!

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**(JOHN'S POV)**

John woke up in the morning to find Sherlock already out of his room. He had not revealed himself to Sherlock the previous night - in fact he had somehow successfully managed to make his way back to his room without Sherlock discovering. Sherlock had been too engrossed in what he saw out the window to notice anything going on inside the house.

It took John twenty minutes to find Sherlock, who was sitting in the main kitchen with a bowl of cereal - playing with his food more than eating it. When John entered, he had continued to stare blankly at his food without even noticing his entrance, his spoon pushing the cereal from one side of the bowl to the other.

"Morning, Sherlock" John began, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock seemed to be completely somewhere else, not responding to John.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, you okay?" John continued, when he did not receive a response.

Sherlock, trying to bring himself back to earth, shook his head and looked at John as if he'd forgotten who he was.

"What? Oh, yes, fine" Sherlock finally replied, then looked back to his food.

John felt like saying something, but put it off. He didn't even know how to begin. He went into the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. '_Damn it_' he thought, turning back to Sherlock.

"Sherlock…"he began, but all he saw was his dark curls disappearing behind the kitchen door.

He stood alone in the kitchen, unaware of how he would have continued the sentence had Sherlock still been in the room. '_Probably with something rather incoherent, and something about a thank you'_ he thought. He smiled at that, knowing what Sherlock's reply would have been: "There is no point in thanking logic. You're useful to me, so it is only logical to keep you around". John did not understand that the real reason Sherlock was trying to protect him was because he thought of John as a friend. John felt the same way, but believed - because he was a self-admitted sociopath - that Sherlock never would.

Another two hours later, John looked out of the window, and saw Sherlock walking slowly around the grounds, staring at the ground intently. He seemed to be so deep in thought that possibly nothing could disturb him. '_What could Sherlock be thinking about that has kept him this distracted'_ John wondered. He still didn't know whether or not to believe what Mycroft had said about Sherlock being worried - it seemed almost alien to him.

'_Could that be what's worrying him? That Moriarty is coming after him?' _he thought. _'Me_' he corrected.

Sherlock had said it himself - Moriarty was going to come after him before he went after Sherlock. He believed it was the worst thing he could do to Sherlock - next to killing him. Sherlock was worried about Moriarty coming after John.

Thinking about it all, he knew this had to be true. He knew Sherlock too well to believe that he would be worried about his own life - he never did. The idea of Moriarty going after John was the only other explanation - even if it were a strange concept.

He looked back to Sherlock, and saw him heading for the entrance. He pretended to be busy washing the dishes when Sherlock entered the door.

"You alright, Sherlock? You seem distracted" John could not help asking.

"No, I'm fine" came the reply.

"How's your bullet wound healing up?".

"It's fine, John".

"Let me know if it starts hurting, there's some pain killers here somewhere-".

"I said it's fine, John".

"Sorry, I was just-"

"Asking, I know, but all you seem to do is ask me how I am, and it's…" he started, quickly.

"Annoying?" John asked.

"One word for it…" Sherlock replied.

"How would you describe it, then? You said so yourself that you find it annoying after a while".

"Then why do you continue to ask me?".

"Because the only answer I get is 'fine'. You were shot, Sherlock, 'fine' is either a very bad attempt at sarcasm or a lie".

"And why can't it be true?".

"Because no normal person feels 'fine' after being shot".

"Well, I'm not the average normal person, am I John?" Sherlock replied.

John just shook his head in disbelief.

"You mean you don't feel anything about being shot?" he asked, finding it hard to believe, despite the fact that it was Sherlock he was talking about.

"Well, obviously I feel something, John. I was shot, after all".

"No, that's not - I meant - ".

"I know what you meant, John".

"So why can't you just give me a straight answer?".

"Because I honestly don't care that much about the fact that I was shot. It's in the past, and I'm still alive. I'm fine-".

"Stop saying that-".

"I will when you stop asking".

John almost rolled his eyes. In stead he turned away and continued washing the dishes in silence. He heard Sherlock get up, and knew that he was about to leave. He felt like he should have stopped him, but he didn't, just began scrubbing angrily at the plates in the sink. He heard the door close.

He immediately slouched, placing his head in one of his hands, holding onto the counter with the other. With a sigh, he let his shoulders drop, as they had tensed up during his and Sherlock's conversation.

''_Argument' is more the word' _John thought.

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock walked through the house. He'd hated having such an argument with John, but he had already decided to distance himself from him anyway. In a way, the row had helped him do so.

It was more than annoying when John asked him how he was.

_"How would you describe it then?"._

Confusing.

He did not understand why John would care. If anything, Sherlock thought John would hate him - after all, he was the reason Moriarty was set on going after him. So why did he care if he was in pain or not?

It was a simple deduction.

'_He doesn't hate me'_ Sherlock thought. _'Curious'._

He ended up spending so much time walking about the house that he had not even noticed it getting dark outside. He passed through the house, making his way back to the first library he had been in. It was dark inside, just like the rest of the house, so he turned on one of the glass lamps on one of the tables.

Doing so, he heard something move on the other side of the room. There was someone standing in the shadows.

"John, why are you still up? You're usually asleep by now" Sherlock asked.

He heard John chuckle lightly, but something about his laugh sounded off. He started moving towards him, but was stopped when someone grabbed him from behind.

A cloth was forced over his mouth, someone's hand grabbed his arm, and pulled it backwards as he started to struggle. He tried to shout out, get John's attention, but he was one floor up, and had no way of hearing him through the thick cloth that was over his mouth. The person in the shadows walked forwards, and he recognised him immediately. Moriarty.

He started kicking out, hoping that he would come into contact with him. It was all in vain, Moriarty simply laughed and moved out of the way.

"No point in resisting, Sherlock" he began. "Golem here is a little too strong for you".

He tried to scream out. He threw his hands behind him, trying to hit the Golem, but was unable to. Golem wrapped his free arm around Sherlock in order to hold down both of his arms. Sherlock could feel the hand holding the cloth tighten, trying to suffocate him. He tried to look around him.

Kicking out, he managed to kick the table, and glass went flying, destroying the lamp. He only hoped it was loud enough to wake John up.

"Enough" Moriarty said, waving a hand in the other direction.

Another person came out of the shadows, a stranger. He brought a needle out of his pocket. Sherlock froze. Then the man started heading towards him. He fought with everything he had, he needed to get away. He couldn't get away, no matter how he fought he couldn't get away.

A burst of pain hit him as the needle entered his neck. He felt all the remains of his energy leaving him almost immediately. He felt himself start to fall towards the ground.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

He twisted over in his bed, noises from around the house bringing him back from the sleep he desperately wanted to fall deeply into. He shot up out of bed as the sound of glass shattering alerted him of danger. Following his army instincts, he grabbed his gun from the bedside cabinet and ran out of his room.

He immediately went into the library, knowing that that was where the sound of the glass had come from - it was directly beneath him. Opening the door, he saw the broken lamp on the floor, illuminated only by the light that was coming in through the other door. He followed the light out into the corridor and found it to be coming from outside.

Headlights.

It was someone's car and he could easily see who it belonged to. In front of him, almost twenty feet away was Moriarty, standing by the open passenger door. John raised the gun, warning him not to move. However, he couldn't shoot, and Moriarty knew why. On the other side of the car, being forced into the back seat was Sherlock. He looked half dead already, his pale skin had gone clammy-looking, and even paler than usual. His eyes were unfocused, closing every now and again, as if he had been drugged, his head lolling from side to side. Behind him was someone he instantly recognized - the Golem, the one who was forcing Sherlock into the car. Someone stood beside him, holding a gun to Sherlock's head.

"You and I both know, that you are not going to shoot, Johnny boy" Moriarty began. "You do and my good friend here will put a bullet in that lovely brain of his".

"You wouldn't do that, Moriarty. You don't want him dead" he replied, suspiciously.

"You want to risk that?" he asked.

He hesitated, not knowing what to do. Mycroft's men were no where to be seen, what had happened to them? Why did they allow Moriarty to get this close? He thought about what Moriarty had said. '_Damn it' _he thought, knowing his immediate answer was in the negative.

Moriarty laughed when he saw his hesitation. He could see in John's eyes that he could not take the chance, he knew that it would only get Sherlock shot again. He got in the car, knowing that John would not be able to stop them.

John was shaking and his body was screaming at him to react when he saw Sherlock being shoved into the car. He had to stop himself going towards the car, knowing that it would only make things worse. The gun was still held against Sherlock when the car backed away from the house and down the lonely dark road.

He threw the gun at the wall behind him, screaming out in anger, wishing he had done something, anything. He just didn't want to risk Sherlock's life. How could he? He brought his hands to his head as he turned back around and saw the lights of the car disappear into the distance. He felt his knees give way, and found himself sitting on his knees, staring at the spot where the car had been, his hands in fists in an attempt to stop him hitting something.

He had no idea where they were going, or what was going to happen. All he knew was that Sherlock was in danger, and he felt like it was all his fault.

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**Hehehe! Oh my god, I never enjoyed writing something more in my life! **

**Extra note - if you're fab enough to be reading this (cookies to those who are): I've decided that any writing written in bold and italics is a text message. Anything in italics is thoughts. Anything in italics and underline is a sort of flashback moment. If I ever screw this up and one of you fabulous readers notice, please tell me, because - as I've said in the previous chapter - little things like that annoy me. Thanks!**


	7. Trouble

**Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN 'SHERLOCK'.**

One count of swearing, but apart from that I think it's all clear =D

Thanks for all the fab reviews and I'm going to start answering you back from now on, but I forgot to add it for this chapter and I wanted to get it posted so I didn't bother. Thanks for the story alerts too! :)

Enjoy!

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**(JOHN'S POV)**

It took fifteen minutes for Mycroft's people to arrive, as well as Mycroft himself. Arriving in his black Mercedes, he got out before the car had even properly stopped. He went straight to John - who now sat on a bench just outside the front door. His head was held in his hands, his face hidden.

"John? What happened?" Mycroft began.

"Shouldn't you already know? You were supposed to be having him protected here. Your people were supposed to prevent this from happening" John replied, standing up, looking straight in Mycroft's eyes.

"The CCTV was tampered with by someone on the inside. Moriarty paid off someone to put the tape in a loop. As for the guards that should have been here…they're missing" Mycroft replied. "I'll be rethinking who I allow into my employment, and revaluating my current employees, but first we need to find Sherlock".

"Moriarty took him, Mr Holmes. You haven't been able to find him, and you probably won't. What makes you think you can find Sherlock?" John asked, just keeping his anger in check. It wasn't Mycroft that he was angry at really.

"Because it is Sherlock we're talking about. There is no way he will just sit and listen to Moriarty. He will send us a clue somehow" Mycroft finally answered.

John was doubtful. They were putting their hope of finding Sherlock on that? Surely there was something else. Something they had not thought of. Sherlock needed help, and John didn't know what to do.

"The good thing is that Moriarty won't harm Sherlock. He doesn't want that, something both Sherlock and I agree on".

"Why did he take Sherlock at all? I thought it was me that he was after?" John asked.

Mycroft looked confused. "Why would you think-". Then his eyes widened in realization. "You were there, you were listening. Last night, in the library".

John nodded apprehensively. Mycroft sighed.

"Did Sherlock find out?" he asked.

"I don't think so, he was too distracted by…whatever he was looking at out the window".

"Out the window?" Mycroft repeated, to which John nodded his reply. "What would be so-?" Mycroft began. "He knew" he added, after another moment of realization.

"Who? Sherlock? Knew what?".

"That Moriarty would make an attempt. Damn it, Sherlock, if you had only told me" he replied, finishing by talking to himself more than John.

John couldn't hide his surprise. Sherlock had known an attack would be made - or at least he had suspected. He made a mental note to lecture Sherlock the next time he saw Sherlock, forbidding him from keeping such things to himself.

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock felt himself waking up, but not wanting to. He knew only more of the drug they were giving him would be waiting. He'd already woken up three times in the car, and they had had to give him more in order to knock him out and stop him escaping. Moriarty would not risk giving him too much too fast, but Sherlock was very resilient to the drug - after all, he did used to use them.

This time was different. He was waking up somewhere else. Somewhere dark, a stone floor beneath him, and no doubt four thick stone walls around him too.

He realized he was lying on his front, and rolled over onto his side as he opened his eyes slowly. No one else was there. In the corner was a single bed, pushed up against the wall. No other furniture, but the wall was decorated with strange metal rings that had been screwed on. He saw a rope tied through one of the rings - it was bloodstained.

He started sitting up, but found that his head hurt too much - obviously the drug was still in his system. Sitting up slowly, he leaned against the bed and looked at the other side of the room. The other walls were bare, but the door was opposite him. He could tell, even from that distance that it was locked, probably with guards on the other side.

He wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but as he felt it calling him away from reality, the door was unlocked. He stood, a little too fast, making his head scream at him. Leaning against a wall, he waited for them to enter. Three people came through into the cell, two moved to the corners of the room, with Moriarty standing in the centre.

"Well, Sherlock, it is good to see you up and about. You've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours! I was beginning to think that you didn't want to play my little game" Moriarty began, smirking at him.

"Well, you know what drugs can do to a person. It makes them very uncooperative" he replied.

"If only you hadn't resisted. Those drugs would not have been necessary" Moriarty retorted.

Sherlock remained silent. Waiting for Moriarty to make his move, wondering what he wanted this time.

"I assume you don't want to kill me yet, considering you would have done by now if you did" Sherlock continued, when Moriarty stood silent.

"Of course I don't. I told you - I'm saving that for something special. I was so happy when I heard that you awoke from your coma. I had to kill the bastard who shot you, just to get rid of my anger about the whole event. But really, Sherlock! Did you have to protect your little pet? You should have let him die there and then. It would have been quick, less painful. Now I'll have to kill him another way - I don't really like to repeat myself".

"Like you did with Carl Powers? Or Connie Prince? You repeated yourself then" he burst.

"Well, that was special circumstances. Besides, you're acting like you care. Don't do that, we both know that you don't" Moriarty replied.

"Special circumstances?".

"Yeah, I wanted to give you a little hint. After all, what fun is the game if no one knows who's playing?" he replied.

"Please, I knew it was you the moment the…'game' started".

"I love that you're calling it 'the game'!" he exclaimed, a wide smile on his face, and clasping his hands together.

"What do you want…James?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh! Looks who's done their homework!".

"Well, I do my research. Your father: Professor Moriarty, a professor of Mathematics. When you were born he had you home schooled, which is - I'm guessing - how you got to be so skilled in the finance business. Well, criminal finance, at any rate".

"Well done, my dear Sherlock. You really do get all the information you can about your opponent, don't you? I do the same. You were sent to the same school as your brother, and everyone had high expectations of you because of it. Which is most likely why you rebelled throughout your childhood, despite the fact that you are smarter than him. See? We're more alike than you think".

"I doubt that".

"I don't".

There was a moment of silence, as Moriarty started slowly pacing back and forwards. Sherlock stood still, waiting for whatever it was that was coming.

"You still haven't answered my question: what do you want?" Sherlock continued.

"Just the usual, Sherlock. A little warning to stop searching for me, as well as a notice about a few more games heading your way".

"I haven't been searching for you, James. My brother has-"

"Well, tell him to stop. If he doesn't…I may have to do something about it" Moriarty continued. "He's already snatched a few of my…pilot fish. Not a great inconvenience, but still irritating".

"I don't exactly control what my brother gets up to, James-".

"Well, you had better find a way. It's bad enough having one Holmes in my way, if I get two who knows how I'll react" he smiled. "I would also suggest you stop calling me that. I really don't like being called that, so I would recommend that you restrain yourself from doing so" his irritation clearly showing on his face.

"So why am I here? If that's all you wanted, if that's all you wanted to tell me, why bring me here? What was the point? You could have 'warned' me at the house, you had enough time".

Moriarty smiled in reply, without actually saying anything.

"You're so smart, you figure it out. I'm sure it won't take you long. Meanwhile, I better be off, got some business to attend to. My good friend, Moran will take care of you, Sherlock. Don't worry, I've told him not to hurt you…too much" he finally said, a smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth.

He casually walked out, leaving Sherlock with the two men who had entered with him. Then another man entered. He was tall, though not so tall as Sherlock. He looked like he was one of those people who you would see in the street, and completely forget about them later on. There was nothing at all unique about him, or anything that would be particularly remember able about him. His dark brown hair was like all the other brown hair out there, as well as his unshaven face, and bushy eyebrows.

He edged his way towards Sherlock, bringing out a bowie knife from the back of his belt.

"It's a shame I'm not allowed to kill you, I would have greatly enjoyed it" his low voice complained.

Sherlock wanted to back away from him, but he was already against the wall.

'_Observation: three against one. Armed with bowie knife' _he thought.

Sherlock Holmes knew he was in trouble.

* * *

**I wanted to make this chapter longer, but it made more sense to continue it as a new chapter, otherwise it might get a little confusing - too many POV changes. If anyone has any ideas of things I could write then I would love to hear about them - or any ideas as to how you think this story should continue. :D Thanks for reading!**

**Any comments - positive or negative - are completely welcome! I love getting advice from people, because advice from the actual reader - who doesn't know how it's going to end - is EXTREMELY helpful! lol :D Thanks!**


	8. Southside Docks

**Disclaimer: Do not own 'Sherlock'.  
Any mistakes are completely my known, but if you notice any significant ones please tell me because I hate it so much when i do that sort of thing - typing too fast most of the time :D  
My knowledge of London isn't exactly complete, so forgive any complete guff that you read :D ****Thanks for all the fab reviews that have been coming in.  
****I think there is one slight case of swearing here, but it's not much :) **

**Enjoy!**

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**(JOHN'S POV)**

"John, you're worn out. You haven't slept at all in the last three days, you're getting as bad as Sherlock" Lestrade began. "Go home and get some rest, we'll phone you the minute we get anything".

"I don't feel like it, Inspector. I'm not that tired, honestly" John argued.

"Sure, that's why you keep yawning when no one's looking".

Lestrade had pulled John over to the side of the meeting room, talking in almost a whisper to John, as the rest of his team and Mycroft's analysed every lead they could find, checking the CCTV of everywhere in London, and talking to the guards that had been found unconscious on the grounds of the safe house. One of the men that was found was one of the men who had been working for Moriarty on the side, but had yet to reveal anything about a whereabouts of the psychopathic criminal.

"I can't leave, Lestrade" John continued. "I owe it to Sherlock to stay here and help in any way I can".

"You owe it to Sherlock to get some sleep, something to eat. What would he say if he turned up and found you exhausted because you didn't 'feel like it'?".

John sighed.

"I know, it's just…".

"It's not your fault, you know, John. I can tell that you're thinking that it is - you don't have to be the great Sherlock Holmes to make a deduction like that" Lestrade commented.

"Of course it is. If I'd just shot the damn bastard, then Sherlock would still be here".

"From what you've told me, if you shot him, Sherlock would have died" he argued.

John sighed again, knowing that what he said was true. He just couldn't get the feeling out of his head, that he was responsible, at least in part, for Sherlock's kidnapping. If he had stayed downstairs that little bit longer and apologized to him for their argument, if he had only been quicker down the stairs, if he only had that clear shot, if only…. There were a lot of 'if only' this, and 'if only' that running through John's mind. He knew there was nothing he could do to change the past. Sherlock had been taken. Now he needed to focus on getting him back.

Donovan entered the room, interrupting John's thoughts.

"The scum that worked for this Moriarty fellow? He's started talking. Doesn't like the prison sentence that's threatening him 'cause he's got a wife and three kids. Decided to talk as long as we go easy on him in court" she said to Lestrade, capturing the attention of everyone in the room, causing everything to go silent.

Lestrade took a moment to look around the room at the faces that were now showing hope, including Anderson's - something he would have found hilarious if it were any other circumstance. His eyes rested finally on John. He nodded, giving up the argument of John going home to rest. He knew that this was something that John would not give up on. If that man was talking, John was going to be there to hear everything.

John, Anderson and Mycroft stood in the viewing room, looking into the interrogation room through the two-way mirror. Lestrade and Donovan had just entered the interrogation room itself, inside which an average height, blonde haired young man sat with his arms crossed. He didn't seem at all relaxed. If anything, he looked scared, terrified about something. _'Probably that Moriarty is going to get to him for talking to us'_ John thought. He suddenly didn't blame the man for not wanting to talk in the first place, but considering he was part of the reason Sherlock was taken in the first place, his anger at the man did not diminish.

"Alright, Mr…Brooks. You wanted to talk, so talk".

"I want a promise that my family will be protected. I know who I'm dealing with, Inspector, and I'm not stupid. I tell you anything, and they're targets" Brooks replied.

"I've sent two cars to your address. They will pick up your family and bring them here, where they will be safe" Lestrade explained.

Brooks visibly relaxed. He still looked scared of what he was about to do, but the stress on his face definitely lessened. He sat up slightly, licking his lips.

"Alright…according to a few of the people I was contacted by…he was planning on moving the guy we were guarding to some place by the docks. I don't know the exact address, because I was never taken there" he began. On seeing Lestrade roll his eyes, and Donovan shutting a folder, preparing herself to leave, he continued. "But I do have something that might point you in the right direction. One of the boys who worked for the boss gave me a sheet of paper with some jumbled up words on it. Said that if I ever wanted to get more work with them, then I should work it out and find him. He wasn't a direct link to the boss, but he's a good sight more knowledgeable about him than I am, and it may lead you to the right place".

"Where is this sheet of paper, then?" Donovan asked.

"It was in my pocket when I got dragged in here. It'll be wherever you put my stuff" he replied.

Lestrade and Donovan got up and left the room, leaving Brooks alone in the room, with a guard just outside the door. Lestrade joined the others in the viewing room as Donovan went to collect Brooks' belongings. He looked at each one of them, then back at Brooks.

"What do you think, Mr Holmes? Telling the truth?" he started.

"I believe so. He is genuinely concerned for his family, which seems to be the true reason for his opening up. He still seems rather scared about something though…probably Moriarty finding out about his talking to us" he replied.

Lestrade nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'd agree. He seems to be telling the truth…I just hope this…paper helps us find Sherlock".

Looking back into the interrogation room, they saw Donovan walk back in with a bag of Brooks' stuff. She emptied the small number of things onto the table and asked Brooks to identify the correct piece of paper - there were five in total. Three of the sheets were thrown out as receipts, the fourth a bubblegum wrapper, and the fifth was the very piece of paper they were looking for.

She put back everything else in the bag and left the room again.

She entered the viewing room with only the piece of paper in her hands.

"This is the piece of paper that he said he was given" she began, holding out the paper for everyone to see.

'**4. ****Xlmvh fymphmrk. Wsyxlwmhi hsgow.'**

"What on earth is that meant to mean?" Anderson started, looking bewildered.

"It's obviously some sort of code. Since they are not the smartest of men, I'll be guessing that it's something pretty simple. They're not close to Moriarty, so using an extremely complicated cipher isn't necessary. They don't think it will trace back to him. Therefore it will be a well known or easy to remember code. There will probably be a pattern, if I could just take a look at this for one moment?" Mycroft explained. "I wish Sherlock was here, he would have this solved in a minute" he commented, a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

He was given the paper and John followed him to a table. Lestrade left the room and went to ask Brooks about it.

"The number four obviously has some sort of importance. It has been placed on a completely different line, so I would assume that has nothing literally to do with the message itself, but more to decoding it".

"So it's some sort of key then?" John asked.

Mycroft nodded. "Precisely".

Lestrade entered the room once more.

"Didn't know much about it. He never really gave any attention to it. He said the one thing that stood out was that when he was given the piece of paper, he was told that a certain Italian guy would help him solve this" he explained, looking a little more confused than he previously had.

"Italian? Is it really that simple? Or is it an actual Italian man they are referring to?" Mycroft said, saying the last question more to himself than anyone else.

"What do you mean? How on earth does some reference to an Italian guy help?" Anderson asked.

Mycroft was silent, looking at the paper. John noticed that he seemed to be using his fingers to count something. He looked at the paper himself and started counting four letters in front of each letter written. '_'Bpqzl' as a first word makes no sense' _he thought. Then he started counting letters backwards.

"It's the Caesar Cipher!" John exclaimed, when he received 'third' as the first word.

Mycroft looked to him, and smiled as he nodded.

"Sherlock wasn't kidding when he said you were smarter than average. The other three didn't have a clue" Mycroft whispered to John.

John would've blushed, but the seriousness of the situation was too distracting. Plus, the 'other three' were interrupting his thoughts, asking what the message was. Mycroft and John looked back to the letters. John got there first.

"Third building. Southside docks" John explained.

Mycroft nodded in agreement. "Brooks said that Sherlock was being taken somewhere along the docks…".

All five people looked at each other, knowing that this had to be where Sherlock was being held. This was where they would find him.

'_Third building. Southside docks' _John thought. '_Sherlock, you had better be okay'._

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock lay on the bed facing the wall, pretending to be asleep. His stomach had stopped bleeding by now, but thankfully his bullet wound had not opened up. The cut Moran made would heal and eventually disappear, the bullet wound mark would not. There was a bruise beginning to form under his right eye, and several others on his chest and stomach, which would become black as soot by the time he got out of that place.

He had tried to fight back, but was held in place by two others, while Moran had 'taken care' of him.

He kept a time count inside his head. It was another ten minutes before the guard went to get the food tray. He needed to get out of that place, and he was not about to just sit there when he felt like he should be doing something. If there was a chance that he could get away, then he would take it.

He lay quietly, not wanting to alert to guard to the fact that he was actually awake.

The ten minutes passed by very slowly. Then he heard the door being unlocked and opened.

He had been lucky enough to hear what arrangements were being made, in way of security, and had heard that only one guard would be placed outside his door, as there was a large shipment of something coming in, and all men were needed elsewhere. Also, with Sherlock handled, they believed he would be no problem. They were underestimating him - something Moriarty would not approve of were he there.

The guard passed by the door, and went towards the bed, placing the tray on the floor. He could hear the tray being placed down, and could tell that it was only just over four feet away from him. Perfect.

Suddenly, the guard found himself being held away from the door, with a pillow over his face, unable to call out for help, as Sherlock held him back. This wasn't some trained sniper, or even an average criminal. He didn't try to properly fight back, all he kept doing was struggling, trying to pull away, and in stead found himself being suffocated.

Yet Sherlock did not kill him. Once he was sure that the man was unconscious, he quietly let the man lie on the floor beside the tray of food, and reached for the keys that were on his belt. Before leaving the room, he checked for any sort of weapon on the body, but all he found was a baton.

'_That will have to do' _he thought to himself, as he left the room, checking every direction before finally stepping out.

The place he found himself in resembled some sort of clinic, with bright white hallways, and long corridors. He soon found himself staring into a cupboard, which contained spare clothing, and uniforms - which he immediately took advantage of to use as a disguise. Wearing a hat, low over his forehead, he continued down the corridor, hoping to find someway out of the building.

Turning the corner, he saw three people heading in his direction, and he jumped back behind the wall, unsure if they had even seen him.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

Several police cars and an ambulance were all ready at the end of the street. A team of Mycroft's people were ready to enter the building.

It looked like a remodelled warehouse. Right beside the water, it was huge - the biggest in the street. Most of the building was well hidden, as most of it was around the other side, facing the water. The outside had recently been given a white paintjob, suggesting that it was still in recent use.

John sat in one of the police cars with Lestrade and watched the building as the team moved in closer to it. He listened in on the radio head-set Mycroft had given him, as he heard the order to move in being executed. Unable to sit still, he got out the car and leaned on the roof of it, still watching the building with an eagle-eye.

'_Come on…come on…' _he thought, tapping his fingers on the roof. Lestrade got out of the car too, watching the building just as focussed.

It felt like hours passing as John waited for some sort of message from the men who had entered the building. Starting to get impatient, he turned away from the building, not wanting to think about what may lay inside. In truth, it took nearly ten minutes before anything interesting came in over the head-set.

"Sir, we found three people unconscious, but it looks pretty abandoned from the inside" said the team leader.

"What of my brother? Is he one of the three people?" he heard Mycroft's voice ask.

"I'm afraid not, sir. There was a note left with the bodies though. Perhaps it could lead you to him" replied the unfamiliar voice.

John let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and ran his hands through his hair as he tried to think. This may not have been the best news, but it certainly was not the worst. At least they hadn't found Sherlock dead, that was the main thing. _'He's still alive, I know he is. Moriarty wouldn't kill him, not yet' _he thought, reassuring himself.

He looked over to Lestrade as he saw him slowly pacing back and forwards in front of the car. Suddenly stopping, he heard him mumble something_._

"Where are you, Sherlock?" he wondered, rubbing his hand on the side of his face.

John found himself wondering the same thing, but was unable to answer.

* * *

**Woo hoo! That's that done! Need to be patient about the next chapter - exams starting this week and I am freaking out! The first one for me is maths, which is okay (is it weird that I really enjoy maths class?) Anyway, here's comments from reviews:**

**Darthjackie - **That's exactly why i added it! :D id love it if he called him 'James' in the show - just because it annoys him :D Thanks!  
**egaara - **Thanks a bunch! I love your reviews so much, they always make me smile! :D  
**Elvendork-Infinity - **Thanks! Had to add the reference, couldn't resist really :D

**Hope you guys enjoyed this!**


	9. Somewhere Safer

**Author's Note:**

**You are probably going to hate me for this chapter - you'll find out why, and I've commented on it at the bottom just so you know!**

**Comments:**

**DarthJackie - **Thanks for the review and for the encouragment!

**Elvendork-Infinity - **I love stories that involve the Caesar Cipher - don't know why! :D Thanks for the luck! That's my first exam too! A little freaked cause school is completely over for me once exams are over - aaaahhhh! =D

**egaara - **That's what I was thinking when I wrote it - that Sherlock would have been proud. Woo hoo! Thanks a bunch! :D

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

He had absolutely no idea where he was going. He knew where he was, he knew London of by heart, but where was he going? There was not many places up for him to hide. If Moriarty found that Sherlock had escaped he would be madder than the hatter - not that he wasn't already. He was getting angry just because Sherlock was calling him 'James'. How mad would he get if his prized prisoner escaped?

Sherlock didn't like to think about it. He had to get as far away from the warehouse as possible, but where was there that Moriarty would not look? As soon as he discovers him gone, his first search would be…

_'Baker Street'_ he thought, knowing that this meant that John was in trouble if he was anywhere near their apartment.

He knew he didn't have a lot of time. He had to get somewhere. Somewhere safer.

* * *

**(MYCROFT'S POV)**

After searching the rest of the building, nothing else was found. The entire warehouse was empty, aside from the three people that they had already found. Mycroft ordered his men to keep looking, keep searching for Sherlock. Within a few minutes, nearly everyone had left. Mycroft got into his black Mercedes, offering Lestrade, Donovan and John a lift back to Baker Street or Scotland Yard.

He sat in the back of the black Mercedes, sitting next to John. Nothing was said between anyone, not even Lestrade or Donovan - who sat opposite him. He saw John look out the window, looking at the busy streets of London that passed by, with not a care in the world. He closed his eyes, and allowed his head to rest on the cold glass of the window. He could tell that John was worried about Sherlock, and, if truth be told, so was he. Nothing like this had ever happened, nothing this seriously threatening to Sherlock's life anyway.

It seemed like only a few moments went by, when he found himself looking out the window to see 221b Baker Street outside the glass. John said a short farewell to the others, before getting out the car and walking to the door.

The car left Baker Street once John had entered his apartment. Lestrade and Donovan still sat opposite him, both of them unsure whether or not they should speak. Mycroft decided to make the answer clear.

"When you return to Scotland Yard, I think it would be best to find out if Brooks knows anything else. That surely can't be the only clue he had to give" Mycroft said, seeing Donovan jump slightly from the sudden jump out of the silence.

Both nodded their reply. He looked to his phone. Upon seeing that there was nothing new about Sherlock, he put it away. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

The door to his apartment was unlocked, which meant that Mrs Hudson had returned from her weekly shop. Surely enough, Mrs Hudson had left a bag of groceries at the foot of the stairs for him - obviously having not gotten to taking it upstairs yet. He made a mental note to thank her later. Despite the fact that she was their 'landlady, not their housekeeper' she couldn't help acting as if she were their housekeeper. Sometimes she acted as if she were their mother - that always made John smile. Not today. Today he was thankful, as always, but there was no smile.

He locked the door behind him, throwing his keys into the bowl that sat on the fireplace at the bottom of the stairs, and headed up to the apartment, taking the bag with him.

Opening the door to the living room, he saw something that made him drop the bag, probably damaging the fruit and eggs that were inside it. He didn't care, he froze.

In front of him was the one person in the world that he did not expect to see - especially not in the centre of his living room.

* * *

**Dum dum dum! I know that it's kinda on the sort side, but i had to have the above as a cliff hanger - its better this way, believe me. I promise to make the next one a lot longer than this. Can't believe I did a bit from Mycroft's POV - it's weird :D Had to be done though. **

**There is a poll on my profile page, as I need to know which of my two present stories people would like me to focus more on - I'll still be writing both, but it means that I can focus more on one than the other since the exams are here, and I'm going to blow my brains with the amount of studying I'll be doing. Thanks to you if you do vote.**

**Virtual cookies to any reviewer! - just because :D**


	10. Baker Street

**Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN 'SHERLOCK'! - dang it!**

**Once again, thanks for all the fab reviews that have been coming in, as well as the votes for the poll - keep voting you've got another week or so yet. Anyway comments are at the bottom of the page. I won't drone on about random stuff that you probably don't care about so I only have one word for you:**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**(MYCROFT'S POV)**

When they arrived at the police station, Anthea was waiting for her boss at the side of the pavement. There was no update, no sighting of Sherlock, or Moriarty anywhere in London. This could mean one of two things: Moriarty still had Sherlock and was hiding him somewhere else; or Sherlock was free of him and was hiding himself. _'He wouldn't do that. The first thing he'd do is go to Baker Street to check up on John' _Mycroft thought.

With that thought in mind, he told one of his men to take another look at the CCTV on Baker Street, and keep an eye out for anything happening there. He had already told them to do so, but he now thought that it was safer to double check everything. John would keep an eye out on Baker Street as he was already there, sure, but who would keep an eye on John?

All four of them reached the conference room, where there were different areas sectioned off. In one corner of the room, people were narrowing down areas that Moriarty was not, by scoring it off a map. They were able to do this by referring to the CCTV, which had been stationed a few metres away. Mycroft had people trying to dig up any information on Moriarty that they could find The more the better, hopefully leading to a weakness - though he doubted it.

"I hate to ask this question, but...um..." said Lestrade's voice quietly, so that only Mycroft could hear him.

"What is it, Inspector?" he replied.

"Are we sure that…Moriarty…I mean he wouldn't have…?".

"Already killed him?" he finished. Lestrade nodded slightly. "We must hope he hasn't. After everything that has happened so far, I cannot honestly see him doing that. He seems to be obsessed with Sherlock, which is more worrying than anything, it means he'll never quit".

"Unless we catch him".

"Maybe not even then. Moriarty is clever, almost as clever as Sherlock. If he were arrested, he could escape in…half an hour" he replied, stunning Lestrade. "Oh, believe me, Sherlock could probably do it quicker".

Lestrade nodded in agreement, with a small smile on his face.

"Probably, knowing what he's like" Lestrade replied.

"Sir, there's been a sighting at Baker Street" said Anthea, causing the entire room to go quiet.

Everyone looked from Anthea to Mycroft, waiting for him to ask. Mycroft dreaded asking the question that he knew he had to, the question that everyone was waiting to hear the answer to. He was, for once, scared of what the answer might be. He turned around, his back to the room, and leaned forwards onto a table, pretending to observe one of the maps that was laying there.

"Who is it?" he finally asked, closing his eyes.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

He hadn't paid a single thought to the groceries in the bag.

He just stood starring at the man that sat in Sherlock's chair, unable to believe that he was actually in the apartment. He couldn't quite take it in, he didn't believe that this would be happening. He had to be imagining this. He couldn't really be there.

He couldn't really be sitting in Sherlock's chair, legs crossed, wearing another fancy suit.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to say.

"Oh, please, why does everyone start with that question?" asked the man with the Irish accent.

"Probably because they don't know the answer" he retorted.

"You do".

"Not really" he snapped.

After a moment of thinking, James Moriarty replied.

"Well, well, Johnny boy, I can see why he likes you. So feisty" he said with a smile.

John didn't reply. He didn't know what was going on. Why was he there? He had Sherlock, why would he come back? He wanted to turn, run back downstairs and out the door, but he couldn't make his legs move. It was like they were cemented to the floor.

"Did you have to drop the groceries, Johnny boy? It's a shame, looks like I wasted my money".

"You bought those?".

"Oh, of course. How else was I supposed to make you think that the person who was already inside Baker Street was someone who belonged here, like your lovely landlady, Mrs Hudson".

"Where is she?".

"Oh, don't worry about her, she popped around to her friend's house before going shopping, it's the other side of London. It's just you and me" he smiled. "I got so bored waiting, I started looking though this and Mrs Hudson's apartment for any bugs, etc. I already found three in here and another couple downstairs! Sherlock's brother is very protective, is he not?".

"Family tend to act that way" he replied.

"Not usually quite as dramatic though" Moriarty responded.

'_I think that's the only thing we actually agree on'_ John thought.

"Please, sit down, Dr. Watson" he added, seeing that John was unmoving, and could tell that he was thinking about making a break for it. John didn't move. "Don't make me ask you again, doctor".

As he said this, he brought out a semi-automatic, and pointed it his direction. John thought about it for a moment, then moved slowly towards his chair, where the Union Flag pillow was sat. Moriarty smiled as he finally sat down. He didn't drop the gun an inch, knowing that as soon as he did, John - what with his military background - would be able to remove the gun from his hands, and the situation would be the other way around.

"I'm here for one reason and one reason only. Sherlock".

"Where is he? What have you done with him?" John said automatically, before he could stop himself.

"You know something, I'm not quite sure" he replied.

John's head looked up, surprised. _'Has Sherlock gotten away from him? Then where the hell is he?' _he wondered, with half a mind to lecture Sherlock the next time he saw him, for not turning up before Moriarty.

"I was actually surprised that you managed to work out the little note that Brooks had. I'd always pinned you as such a dull fellow. I suppose hanging around Sherlock has done you some good then" he continued. "You were absolutely spot on, he was being held there. But you wouldn't have found him, even if he hadn't escaped. My people were ordered to remove him two hours before you showed up. The only difference is that you and your friends at the Yard were given a little present from Sherlock".

"The three men we found in the building" it wasn't a question, John knew that it was Sherlock's doing. It had to be.

"Exactly. I hated him at that moment. The moment that I'd realized that he had left without even having the decency to say goodbye" grinned the mad man. "You want to know what happens to the people I hate?".

"Well, if Carl Powers is anything to go by..." John commented.

Moriarty couldn't help but chuckle.

"Please, doctor, that was nothing. That was a little trick. Hiding the real cause of death was simple, people are such idiots. They always overlook the most important detail" he added. "I already know that you don't know anything about the whereabouts of Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with the questions that are oh so cliché".

"Then why are you here? What's the point of coming here?" John asked.

"Because I know Sherlock. He'll be back, you're here so that's a definite. Despite what he may say, I know that he cares about what happens to you. He also knows that I know it. Therefore it is obvious. If I want to find Sherlock, I'm going to need to borrow you".

John realized where this was heading. A smirk appeared on the mad man's face, making him appear even more insane.

* * *

**Another cliffhanger? Really? Not as bad as the previous one though, I hope!**

**Comments:**

**egaara - **Sorry! i am really sorry! Please don't come at me with pitchforks, etc! I did warn you though, hehe! Thanks for the review! XD

**DarthJackie - **Mmmm...cookies XD I know - it was really evil, but I could not stop myself! Thanks for that :) I find it hard to write from Sherlock's POV so I'm glad you liked it :D

**Elvendork-Infinity - **I wanted to put it as Sherlock, but I couldn't not with what I'm going to include in later chapters. No Sherlock in this chapter! Just realized while writing this! Don't worry Sherlock's going to come back soon :)

**Lozzy-heartz-bookz - **I'm sorry that this is a distraction, but I'm really glad that you like it! Your welcome, and thanks for the fab review! And for the review on 'Neccessary Risk' - I would comment on your reply in the other story, but considering it's complete... Anyway, I'm really glad you like it! And I'm the same - if there's a story I really like I have a habit of re-reading it :D

**callietitan - **Hope this was worth the wait :D Thanks for the review!

**Because I'm feeling extra nice this evening, I'm going to give cookies and ice cream to our reviewers, favourited, and alerted - and perhaps some chocolate for them too. Hay, I did the same with my other story, why not? :D**


	11. Return

**Hi again! Hope you guys are still keeping up with this, and I'm not taking too long to update. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Sherlock' and any mistakes, however annoying, irritating, or -_insert word here-, _are completely my own.**

**From the poll it turns out that 'Reclaiming Camelot' won, sorry. Don't worry, I'll still be writing! And the exams are almost over!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Previously…**

_He hadn't paid a single thought to the groceries in the bag. He just stood starring at the man that sat in Sherlock's chair, unable to believe that he was actually in the apartment. He couldn't' quite take it in, he didn't believe that this would be happening. He had to be imagining this. He couldn't really be there…_

_Moriarty couldn't help but chuckle…_

_"Why are you here? What's the point of coming here?" John asked._

_"Because I know Sherlock. He'll be back, you're here so that's a definite. Despite what he may say, I know that he cares about what happens to you. He also knows that I know it. Therefore it is obvious. If I want to find Sherlock, I'm going to need to borrow you"…_

_A smirk appeared on the mad man's face, making him appear even more insane…_

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

John didn't know what to do. He just kept looking at the eccentric man he knew as Moriarty. There was no conversation going on, and John was beginning to think that the silence would last forever.

Both John and Moriarty jumped in their seats as a loud thudding noise was heard, and turned to face the door.

All he was focused on was the man that now stood leaning against the door frame, the door having hit the wall when it was opened. The first thing he noticed was the black bruise under the man's right eye. He looked like he was ready to collapse. He loosely held a baton in his hands. It must have recently that he had been in some kind of fight, as there were specks of blood on the baton.

"I'd drop that if I were you…Sherlock Holmes" Moriarty suggested.

Sherlock looked from John to Moriarty - who still held the gun pointed in John's direction. John looked back to Moriarty, remembering that there was a gun pointed in his direction, and sat back in his seat, as he had started to get up when he saw Sherlock. He looked back over to him when Moriarty was finished silently threatening him.

Sherlock tried not to show any emotion, despite the fact that he hated making this decision. Yet it was an easy decision to make. The baton clattered around on the floor, before Sherlock kicked to the other side of the room due to prompts from Moriarty's gun waving. He continued to stay standing, trying to keep his breathing at a regular pace.

"Sit down…my dear" Moriarty smirked.

Sherlock hesitated, thinking about staying absolutely still, but he looked back to the gun, and walked slowly over to the couch, where he sat down. John took the time it took him to walk over and sit, to look Sherlock over. He could already see several injuries, most of them not too serious, but there was a cut on his left cheek that looked rather deep. It had stopped bleeding, and Sherlock had obviously had time to wipe away most of the blood. He was holding himself up carefully, and John knew that there would be more injuries under his shirt. He was mostly worried about his bullet wound. Had it opened up when he fought off those three guards? Sherlock was wearing a jacket that he didn't recognize, preventing him from seeing if there was any blood on his shirt.

"Well, it is nice of you to finally join us, Sherlock" Moriarty continued. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me".

Sherlock made no reply, he just kept looking at the gun that he held in his hand. He was starting to hate guns, they always made the situation a little too commonplace - 'Dull' was what he thought about them.

"You know, I really don't like it when you ignore me" he added.

"Well, if I talk I am going to call you 'James', and I know how much that annoys you so I thought it would be best to remain silent while you're present" Sherlock finally said, looking from the gun to Moriarty, who's attention was completely on Sherlock.

"Then why do you insist on calling me that?" he asked, glaring at him.

"James, what did I just say? It annoys you. What better reason?" he replied, smiling slightly.

He continued to glare at Sherlock, his grip getting slightly tighter on the gun. _'Why do you always have to annoy the man with the gun, Sherlock?_' John thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at him. This wasn't the situation for mockery or ridicule, he thought Sherlock would have known that by now.

"What you going to do, James?" he replied, emphasising 'James'. "You can't stay here, and you can't leave - people will notice" Sherlock stated, referring to his brother.

"Yes, your brother has made my job of hiding a little harder" Moriarty commented, scowling slightly. "Thankfully, I always plan ahead. We have…" he checked his watch. "Twenty minutes before the boys in blue arrive. Just enough time to give you a little invitation".

He reached into his suit, bringing out an envelope, and threw it to the desk that was beside the chair he was sitting on.

"I'm really not interested" Sherlock stated, looking away from Moriarty, looking rather bored with the whole thing.

"Well, you can either accept the…'invitation', or you can come with me today. Either way I get what I want, it just depends on you if you want to do this the easy or the hard way" Moriarty replied, pulling back the hammer of the gun, capturing Sherlock's attention, forcing him to look back at Moriarty.

Sherlock felt himself sit up straighter as he heard the gun being cocked and locked. He knew the threat that Moriarty was trying to put across. John looked from the gun, and back to Moriarty without moving his head.

"You sure do have a habit of threatening him to get what you want, James" Sherlock finally said, looking at the floor.

"Well, it always works so brilliantly. It's annoying actually, before he came along you wouldn't have given a damn if I threatened people. He's rubbing off on you" he replied. "Perhaps you'd like me to get rid of him for you, stop being such a bad influence-".

"Don't even think about it" Sherlock interrupted, looking up straight at Moriarty.

"You see what I mean?" he smiled. "I told you so, Johnny boy. You're the perfect bait for our Sherlock".

Sherlock shook his head and looked away. He was getting tired of the man's jibes. This was a complete waste of time.

"Well…I'd better be off" Moriarty continued, then chuckled. "Déjà vu? Except this time, you two won't need to worry. I won't be back in the next minute. You're brother is on his way, after all. And I'm not an idiot. Now, get over there".

He twitched his head in the direction of the window, further away from the door. He knew that if he got up and tried to walk past Sherlock, he would try and stop him from leaving. Sherlock stood slowly. John saw his eyes scrunch up for a second, he was obviously in pain. Once he had stood up, he walked over to the window, Moriarty keeping the gun pointed at John. He then ordered John to do the same.

Sherlock stood by the table, the same table that Moriarty had put the envelope on. John walked over and stood beside him. As he turned to face Moriarty one last time, he saw the gun was still pointed his direction.

"'Ciao, Sherlock Holmes'" he smiled.

'_So, now he quotes himself?' _John thought.

He walked backwards towards the door that Sherlock had left open, and walked out, closing the door after him. Both of them stayed still, listening to his footsteps walking down the stairs, and towards the backdoor. It was only when Sherlock heard the door shut, that he collapsed against the table, trying to hold himself up.

"Jeez, Sherlock! Come on, you need to lie down" John started, holding his arm, and he began to lead him back to the couch, with one of Sherlock's arm behind his neck for support.

"No, I'll be fine…Mycroft's coming…I have stay awake…" was the quiet reply, even though his eyes were slowly closing.

"Your brother can wait, Sherlock. You're exhausted, and no doubt your injuries are a lot worse than that black eye and cut you're sporting" he continued, as Sherlock sat back down.

As Sherlock lay his head back against the top of the couch, John walked over to window, just in time to see two police cars, and a black Mercedes pull up outside their front door. He looked back to Sherlock, who had now completely closed his eyes. He could see that he had fallen asleep. He resisted the urge to do the same. Once Mycroft made it upstairs, he would be awake again, and everything that had happened would need to be written down - Lestrade's orders probably. Besides, he wanted to make to make sure that the bullet wound was still stitched up.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Once more thanks to everyone who favourited, alerted or reviewed!**

**Elvendork-Infinity - **I know. It'm terible when it comes to cliffhangers. I just love them!

**eggara - **Why, thank you! :D

**jayni1000 - **Thanks a lot! It's nice to hear that people enjoy my stories :D

**foreversnowynights - **sorry, I completely now how you feel it's happened to me a few times. Got to say I love that word now: 'frignuts' :D Watson's been unable to pull the gun on Moriarty because of the gun that's pointed at him :)

**DarthJackie - **Thanks a lot for the review! Same here, I wanted to put Sherlock as the one in the chair but I just couldn't do it :D


	12. The Letter

**Author's Note:  
****Not really anyone's POV in particular this time, so just going with the flow here :)  
Thanks for the reviews, alerts and favourites!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock practically jumped awake when he heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. John entered the living room, having left to fetch the medical kit from the kitchen. Before John could say anything, Mycroft and Lestrade entered the room, both of their eyes widening at seeing Sherlock sitting there.

"Oh my god! Sherlock!" Lestrade said aloud "You look terrible"

"Brother, how did you get here?" Mycroft asked, almost at the same time.

"Shouldn't you know that, Mycroft? After all you're the one with all the CCTV controls?" he replied, looking up at his brother. "Wait, if you didn't know I was here, then why are you here?".

"We caught Moriarty heading in this direction, and figured that he would be coming here. He was spotted on the CCTV that you so disapprove of" he answered.

"You spotted him and not me? That's weird. And I do not disapprove of the CCTV, Mycroft. It's very helpful for my cases some of the time".

"Just not so helpful when you're trying to avoid detection" Lestrade interrupted.

"Who says I've been trying to avoid detection? You weren't able to spot me, that's hardly my fault. Besides, Moriarty was the one that I was intending on hiding from, not you. Although, it please me to know that I can evade my own brother" Sherlock said, almost smiling.

"Well, maybe I should inject you with a locating chip, it would make my life so much easier" Mycroft retorted.

"Would you girls stop arguing?" John interrupted.

Both turned to look at John, astonishment on Mycroft's face, amazed to hear John talk to him like that. Sherlock simply looked amused.

"What? You're giving me a headache?" he continued.

"Anyway, we saw Moriarty coming here, where is he?" Lestrade asked, turning back to Sherlock.

"He was already here when I arrived. Didn't say anything of great importance".

"He did-".

"He left rather quickly he knew that you heading for Baker Street. He just thought some last minute threats would be beneficial" Sherlock said, interrupting what John was about to say. He knew that John was about to mention the letter that Moriarty had left, and immediately interrupted him to prevent him from doing so.

John noticed this and went along with it. He figured Sherlock must have had a good reason not to tell them, as Sherlock liked to get Lestrade involved in his cases, considering using the police's sources of information was a lot easier when he actually had permission.

Lestrade asked Sherlock to come in to the station within the next couple of days to give a statement of the event. Mycroft had to return to his work now that Sherlock was safe back in Baker Street. They knew that Moriarty wouldn't come back for Sherlock, after knowing that he had previously been in the apartment, he could have easily told Sherlock to go with him, otherwise John would have been shot. Sherlock was actually wondering why Moriarty had not done this, as it obviously gave him an opportunity to persuade Sherlock to give himself up, since he wouldn't have allowed John to be shot.

With Lestrade and Mycroft gone, John wanted to check Sherlock's injuries. Thankfully, the bullet wound hadn't opened up, but the rest of his injuries were certainly making up for it. Along with the black eye and the cut on his cheek, he had bruises all over his torso and arms, a fractured rib, and a badly twisted ankle.

"Jeez, was he trying to kill you?" John asked, after Sherlock had settled back into the couch.

"No, no, no. He wouldn't have that. It's too much fun for him when I'm alive" Sherlock replied.

"I don't know if that reassures me or worries me…" John mumbled. _'Same here' _Sherlock thought.

Sherlock placed his elbows on his knees and held his forehead in his hands. His head was killing him.

"Do we have any aspirin?" he finally asked. John nodded and went into the kitchen, returning with two tablets in his hands, and a glass of water.

"Why did you not tell them about the letter that Moriarty left, Sherlock?" John asked, as Sherlock downed the water in one.

He took a few moments to reply, thinking over what he should say. He could tell him the truth, but the chances were that John would get angry, and he couldn't be bothered dealing with an angry John. On the other hand, it would only make matters worse if he lied to him. The former it was then.

"If I'm going to deal with Moriarty, then I need to do it alone. Bringing other people into the problem will only make things harder, will only cause a distraction. They would be in the way" he finally replied.

John only nodded in reply. He seemed to be taking it well…too well. Sherlock looked up at John, who was looking over at the letter.

"John…when I say alone….I mean alone" he added.

John suddenly looked back around at Sherlock, shock showing clearly in his expression.

"What? Are you insane? He had you kidnapped and practically tortured you! I'm not staying here while you go gallivanting off looking for the mentally insane murderer" John replied.

"John, I have to do this alone. He isn't interested in killing me, I'll be fine. You on the other hand….If you get involved the first thing he'll do is threaten you-".

"I don't care about-".

"But I do!" Sherlock replied, suddenly standing up.

Silence filled the room for a few moments, as Sherlock shook his head.

"I won't stand there and let him kill you if it comes to that kind of situation, John. You know that better than anyone. Everyone else probably thinks that I'd let them die, considering, but you should know better by now. I'm not that bad for crying out loud…" Sherlock continued.

"I know you're not, but if you're going after him, then you shouldn't go alone. You'll need someone to watch your back".

"I'm not giving up this argument, John. You're not coming".

"So you decide where I do and do not go now, do you?".

"When it comes to Moriarty trying to kill you in order to get at me, then yes, I do".

He walked away from John and over to the table where Moriarty had dropped the letter. He picked it up and left to his room, shutting the door behind him, not answering John when he called his name. John was left shaking in anger. _'He is going to get himself bloody killed' he thought._

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**Woop woop! Another chapter done and dusted!**

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**egaara - **you'll find out soon enough! mwah haha! :D I always love your comments!

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	13. Encryption

**Woo hoo! Double upload! **

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**Enjoy!**

* * *

**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock walked over to the bed and sat down. He wanted to fall asleep, the comfort of the bed beneath him was calling to him, but he refused. It was weird, he never actually felt the need to sleep before. Sitting down, he held the letter in front of him. Moriarty had sealed the envelope with his own seal, a big letter 'M'. '_He likes things the old fashioned way, I see'_ he thought to himself. He tore open the envelope, and took out the contents.

Inside he found two things: a think letter and a picture. He recognized the picture immediately. The beauty of how the water hit the rocks and fell down the waterfall was captured on film. It was a picture of a waterfall that, if he remembered correctly, was somewhere in Switzerland, near Interlaken. He had only been there once on a case, not that he had had any time for sightseeing. He had chased the suspect up the hill and near the waterfall. He had had to pass it on his way back down. Why had Moriarty left him a picture of this place?

He looked over at the letter. As he opened it, something fell out and landed on the floor. He picked it up as he started reading.

_**Sherlock,**_

_**I would prefer that you read this without your little pet reading over your shoulder, but if he is then it's more the merrier! Obviously I'm not quite through with our little game. It's simply too much fun to just give up. Of course if you would prefer not to continue the joyous challenges that I set you, I think I have an offer that you won't be able to refuse. I would rather you didn't bring that Doctor of yours along, he only ruins the fun!**_

_**Moriarty.**_

That was it, the end of it. There was nothing else explained. The 'offer' was left as unexplained as the point of the entire thing. It would simply have been easier for Moriarty to mention this 'offer' earlier, but of course Moriarty loved his theatrics.

He looked from the letter to whatever it was that had fallen out of it. It was a plane ticket, one-way, open-ended. It was a ticket to Switzerland. _'He wants me to meet him there'_ he thought, looking at the picture of the waterfall.

There was no other way. He enjoyed the challenges, how he hated to admit it, but this couldn't continue. Not after the consequences of the last time. Twelve people had been killed in the building with the old woman, and both he and John had nearly died after the event with the pool. He would have to go to Switzerland. He would have to go to the Reichenbach falls.

* * *

**(JOHN'S POV)**

John knew something was up. He had asked Sherlock what the letter was about, and he was surprised to find that Sherlock showed him it. It was another puzzle. Something Sherlock had said that he had no interest in solving, and John said that he would look into it. He didn't know that Sherlock had forged another letter, and was keeping the real one hidden, along with the airport ticket and picture.

Although John had managed to get the other encryption, he was immediately confused by this one. It was not the Caesar Cipher, it didn't fit, plus 'Moriarty' wouldn't have used the same cipher twice - that would just be too easy.

Two days had passed since the return of Sherlock Holmes. His bruises were almost completely healed, and he was definitely a fast healer as his fractured rib was already healing quickly. The cut on his cheek had needed stitches, but only the paper ones, as it wasn't as bad as it had actually looked - the blood covering the wound had definitely made it look worse than it actually was.

John had spent some time trying to crack the code that Moriarty had used in the letter, but was having some problems with it - mainly that he just did not have enough time. He had had to return to work, and did not really know where to begin.

Sherlock was out of the apartment when John decided to look over the letter.

_**Nlirzigb Rh Zg Ivrxsvmyzxs uzooh.  
**__**R wlfyg blf'oo gizmhozgv gsrh yvuliv R ovzev.  
**__**Zovig Nbxilug.  
**__**Hsviolxp.**_

The Caesar Cipher hadn't worked, so what else was there? After going through the ones that he knew, he decided to look on the internet for ideas. There were so many of them, he almost gave up straight away. Why didn't Sherlock just do this himself? He kept asking himself if he should ask Sherlock just to solve it, as it was beginning to annoy him.

Shoving the letter aside for now, he entered the kitchen, deciding to make a cup of tea. As he shut the door to the fridge, he realized that there were magnet letters on the door, that had been arranged into a word. Sherlock had obviously had some fun moving them about for whatever purpose or experiment that he had had on his mind at the time.

_**Atbash**_

'_Atbash? What the heck is that supposed to mean?'_ John thought as he read it over. _'Why does Sherlock have to be so cryptic?'_. Then he had a thought, he recognized that word from somewhere. Walking over to his laptop, tea forgotten, he opened up his laptop, and typed it into the search engine. It was an encryption, one of the codes that he had completely skipped over. How could he miss it? It was right in front of him the entire time!

It was one of the substitution ciphers, were the letters of the alphabeat were reversed, so that meant that: A would be Z; B would be Y; C would be X... It was so simple now that he knew, how did it take him this long? Why couldn't Sherlock just tell him?

He grabbed the letter and immediately starting translating it. He could not believe that Sherlock knew what the code was all along and did not bother telling him. He could've stopped worrying about it days ago! Finally though, he was done, and the letter was finally translated.

_**Moriarty is at Reichenbach Falls.  
**__**I doubt you'll translate this before I leave.  
**__**Alert Mycroft.  
**__**Sherlock.**_

'_Jesus…Sherlock's going after him!'_ John thought. He jumped off his seat, and rushed to Sherlock's room, opening the door without knocking. He hadn't expected him to be there, and wasn't surprised to find the room empty. What he was surprised to find was another letter on the bed. Reading over it, John realized that it was the real letter that Moriarty had left for Sherlock, and Sherlock had written a little extra bit at the bottom for John.

_**Going after him. Already left, this way we don't have to argue about you not coming.  
**__**Sherlock.**_

"Damn it!" he shouted, to no one in particular.

He had to get in touch with Mycroft, he would be the only one capable of getting there before Sherlock. The only one who could stop him confronting Moriarty, and probably getting himself killed. He couldn't believe he would do something like this without telling him. This had to be the most stupidest thing he had ever done.

After getting in touch with Mycroft - thankfully he had his number on speed dial now - he called a cab and headed for Scotland Yard. Mycroft said that he would meet both John and Lestrade there, and then they would head to the airport, where he would have a jet waiting for them.

* * *

"Why Reichenbach Falls? It's out of the country. Wouldn't it have been easier for Moriarty to just offer whatever it is he's trying to offer back in Baker Street?" Lestrade asked, as they settled into their seats on the plane.

"Moriarty is worse than Sherlock when it comes to theatrics. He's very…eccentric" John replied.

"I remember Sherlock having to travel to that area once. He had been asked to look into a missing person's case for a friend of one of his previous clients, and he obviously accepted. It turned out that the person who had gone missing was being watched, and decided to go on the run. Just as his murder had done, Sherlock followed him across Europe and down to Switzerland, to a little town called Meiringen. When he arrived, the murder had only just been committed and Sherlock tried to capture the murderer. He had followed him away from the town, and had found himself near the Falls" Mycroft explained.

"That doesn't explain why Moriarty has told him to head there. Why does he have an interest in this place?" John asked.

"I looked into the background of the murderer when he was arrested. I found out that he was actually a close friend, almost a brother, to a certain favourite criminal of ours. A Tomas R. Jaimery. Which, I believe is an anagram of James Moriarty" Mycroft replied.

"So that's why? Sherlock put away the person Moriarty looked at as a brother, so he's sending him back?" Lestrade wondered.

Mycroft nodded. "It seems so. I've had Anthea put a couple of people onto the CCTV to find when Sherlock left and when his flight took off. I know that it's Sherlock, so we probably won't find him, but he would've had to go to the airport, which would have made it harder for him to hide himself-".

"Sir, we've already found him" Anthea said, from the back of the plane. She made her way up to her boss, carrying a laptop in her arms, the CCTV of Gatwick airport being routed to its screen.

"How did you find him so fast? I only asked you to find him ten minutes ago?" Mycroft asked.

"He hasn't been trying to hide himself, Sir. If anything, I'd say that it looks like he actually wanted to be seen" she replied.

Looking at the screen, they saw Sherlock passing through the airport, not in a hurry, and actually looking up at the camera whenever he could. He was trying to get noticed.

"He wants to follow him" Lestrade announced.

"So, he's not a complete idiot" John commented. At Mycroft raised eyebrows, he continued. "Well, he shouldn't be doing this, not on his own at least. He'll get himself killed".

Mycroft nodded, in complete agreement.

"It would've just been easier if he'd told us when he actually left, it would have saved us all this time wasting, we could've left at the same time" John continued.

"He knew that Moriarty would be having him watched, checking that he wasn't bringing us. He might have been fine with him bringing you, but he knew that Sherlock would not have put you in harms way, so Moriarty knew that he wouldn't bring you. If he was coming with all of us however, the likelihood that Moriarty wouldn't even show is probably too high" Mycroft replied.

Looking at the time and date, Sherlock had left Britain two hours ago. He would be arriving in Switzerland soon. It would take at least another hour and a half before they would arrive themselves.

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**Comments:**

**egaara - **thanks for reviewing (i think you've reviwed nearly every chapter - you're fab!) :D hope your still enjoying this!

**Darthjackie -** glad that you liked it! We all know John way too well! hehe :D hope this was worth the wait!

**emptyhandedone - **lol! two comments! hope this was worth the wait! :D big smile on my face knowing that you like both stories! I sometimes get worried if my focusing on more than one story makes one worse than the other - because I'm distracted by writing the other one (if you understood that, lol!)

**callietitan - **'me likey' :D i say to my mum all the time XD hope you liked it! :D

**Need to warn everyone that it's going to be at least a week before I get the next chapter up - but hopefully no more than that (going away on holiday). But as soon as I get back thats my exams over! Woo Hoo - well technically they finished this week, but I've been so exhausted - so many birthday parties this week, it's like the world wants me to fall over with exhaustion! Thanks for all the review, alerts and favourites! It's one of the greatest feelings - and I'm sure a lot of you guys feel the same!**


	14. Final Conflict

**Author's Note:**

**I am literally just in the house! Just literally back home! Please don't kill me for the long wait. For some annoying and pathetic reason my phone wouldn't work abroad so I couldn't get online to post this.**

**Drum roll, if you please! This is the last chapter for this story! OMG! **

**Hope that everyone has enjoyed this. Thinking about some sort of sequal, so any ideas please PM me! - that way no one else will know the whole plot of it :D Thanks to everyone who's followed this especially those who have followed since the beginning and have commented ever since then! You're all so amazing. **

**Special thanks to **egarra**; **Darthjackie**; **TheScienceODeduction**; **Elvendork-Infinity**;** Lozzy-heartz-Bookz**;** emptyhandedone **and **calllietitan** for commenting on practically every chapter from when they started reading - not neccessarily from the first chpater! **

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**(SHERLOCK'S POV)**

Sherlock walked through the trees and down the path towards the falls. He could already hear the water rushing over the top and clashing with the rocks that met it along its way down. He had left his coat somewhere behind him, and only had his suit jacket to protect him from the cold wind that was coming in.

He continued to walk, finding himself at a bridge, which he also continued across. Once across, he found himself at the start of another trail. He took a moment to look back. For the first time in his life, he was unsure if he was doing the right thing. He was unsure if he could really go through with this, go through with what he had planned. He looked back in the direction he was walking and shook his head at himself. He had to do this, he had to continue. So he did.

Walking down the trail, he walked slowly, looking around him, waiting for the man to appear. He knew he was here somewhere - he always got a weird feeling when he was being watched and he had that feeling right now. He finally found himself looking at a path that lead back to the falls, and knew that Moriarty would be along there somewhere.

He could see the waterfall from where he was now. From his knowledge of the area, he knew that there was a hydro-electric power company somewhere near that used the waterfalls flow sometimes, but he knew that it was shut at the moment, as the Reichenbach falls were in full flow.

And there ahead of him was the man he was looking for, in another of his showy suits. As he saw Sherlock, a huge grin appeared on the madman's face.

"Sherlock! Glad you could make it!" the Irish accent started.

Sherlock noticed that he had gone past the end of the path, and had continued closer to the edge, nearer to the waterfall. Despite the warning in the back of his mind that this was a bad idea, he also continued so that he would be nearer Moriarty when he went through with his plan.

"Well, I am glad to see that you came alone, Sherlock. I was thinking that you would try to bring Lestrade and that annoying brother of yours along with you".

"Surely you've been watching me, you would know that moment that they followed me onto the plane, even if they were in disguise" he replied.

"Yes, well, they didn't! They didn't get on any flight - you've made me so happy, Sherlock! It's nice to know that you've done something that I've asked you to do" he continued, the crazy smile getting wider.

"Don't be happy, _James_, I'm only here to listen to what you have to say. Then I'm leaving" Sherlock replied.

"Don't call me that, Sherlock. You've no idea how much it annoys me-".

"Even more than my brother does, I should imagine. You should really not tell me how much it annoys you, by the way, it will only make me use it more often" he commented.

Moriarty shook his head in anger, but the anger was no longer present on his face.

"What it is that you want, James, apart from my involvement in your crimes coming to an end?".

"Ahh! That's what it's all about isn't it?" he replied. "Your involvement. You always - and I do mean always - get involved, even when you know you shouldn't. If you even get a hint that I might be behind the crime you get involved, despite how trivial the crime is - I thought you were only interesting in the challenging ones, Sherlock?".

"Not when it comes to you".

"I'm flattered!".

"You really shouldn't be".

"And why's that?".

"Because it means I'm more determined to see you behind bars than anyone else".

"Oh, don't be like that, my dear. It's all fun and games!" he yelled to the sky. "But you didn't come here to play my little game this time, did you Sherlock? You wanted to know what my offer was, don't you?".

"It sparked a little interest. I wondered what you could possibly have to offer me that I would actually take in order to leave you alone. I don't really imagine much can stop me from destroying you and your organisation, James, so you're really hard-pressed to make this offer worthwhile".

"That's because I don't want you on an opposite side, Sherlock! Imagine what we could accomplish when working together!".

"You can't be serious…that's why I'm here - to hear you ask me to work with you, instead of against you? What would ever make you think that I want to work with you?".

"Because you love the challenge, Sherlock, you love the danger and the risks. Together we could not only take on twice as many tests, but also create them - imagine! To have people acknowledge you for the brilliant man you are!".

"I don't want that sort of thing, James, I'm not like you".

"You're exactly like me!" he retorted. "You are like me in every way, that's why we should work together, Sherlock! Do you remember the last time you were here, Sherlock? I do".

"You were not involved in that case-".

"Not personally, but then again I hardly ever am" he interrupted. "You had him arrested, remember? You chased him around these hills, and finally you tricked him into revealing himself. You know who he was?".

"Another homicidal maniac?" Sherlock replied, his voice dipped in sarcasm.

"No, no…" Moriarty chuckled. "He was the man who taught me so many things. I used to think that he was the greatest and smartest person alive…and then you came along to spoil it all".

"So…what? You've been waiting all this time to get your revenge on me for having your mentor arrested and sent to jail - where he rightfully belonged?".

"No, of course not. I knew from that moment onwards that you were better than him, and now so am I. That's why we should work together. He was the best and smartest criminal of the last generation. Together we could be more than better than him. We could be the best for a very long time, no one will ever be able to compete with us, or even come close to the same level…".

Sherlock had walked forwards so that he and Moriarty were of equal distance to the edge of the cliff. Sherlock stood with his back to the path that he had come from, and Moriarty with his back to the falls.

"I would never ally myself with you, James, you would do well to remember that".

"Shame. We could have accomplished so much together, you know…".

That was when Moriarty looked away from Sherlock and towards the path that had ended a few hundred yards away from them.

"Oh, really? You guys are terrible at hiding!" Moriarty mocked.

Sherlock spun around, honestly shocked to see John, Lestrade and his brother stand up from behind their hiding spots.

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

Before he could react, he felt a knife at his throat, and saw John and Lestrade's look of shock on their faces, as Moriarty behind him forced him to face them. Sherlock couldn't help thinking that this was like the situation at the pool, except the positions had changed.

"What exactly do you think you're going to accomplish by holding me hostage?" Sherlock asked, calmly.

"A ticket out of here, Sherlock. What else?" replied the Irish voice in his ear. "I should have known that these pests would find a way around my surveillance and get here, they're all so pathetically predictable".

"You really should choose your hostages better then, if that's what you want from this" Sherlock commented. "I am a very poor choice. I'm warning you now, _James_, that you should really let me go".

"Oh really? And why's that then?" came the snarl in his ear.

"Because I'm usually have a very bad reaction to being held hostage".

Suddenly, Sherlock grabbed the arm that was holding the knife and moved it forwards - away from him - as he threw his head backwards, into his attackers face. On feeling it connect with its target, he jumped to his right, and elbowed the man in the face, still holding onto the arm. Turning 180 degrees, he elbowed him with the other one. Moriarty's arm was suddenly twisted behind his back, and he was forced to face the same way as Sherlock, who threw a punch to the man's back, forcing him to his knees, turning him around to face him again. Striking the man's head with his knee, Sherlock saw the madman fall onto his side and then onto his stomach, and Sherlock let his arm go. It all happened so quickly, that the others had barely enough time to realize what just happened.

Sherlock turned away from the man, and walked back towards John and Lestrade, while other police officers rushed forwards from behind the three that had previously arrived to handcuff the unconscious man.

**(JOHN'S POV)**

As soon as they had touched down, Mycroft had informed the local police of everything that was happening and instructed them to follow them to the falls. It was lucky the chief of police remembered Sherlock from the last time that he had been there, and immediately knew that they were telling the truth.

"Are you alright?" John asked, watching as Moriarty was dragged away back along the path, a team of police carefully keeping guard.

"Me? Yes, of course. I'm not the one unconscious, or with a broken nose" Sherlock replied, looking back to the man in question. "I did warn him, he really should have let me go".

"Yeah, well…I doubt he thought you were being serious. Moriarty is crazy and most people try to bluff their way out of situations like that, not actually being able to mean what they say".

"I always mean what I say, he should have known that" Sherlock replied. "Especially him, of all people I would have expected him to believe me…"

"True" John agreed. "That was amazing, by the way" he added.

Sherlock smiled a little at that comment, wondering if John would ever change. John smiled back, almost wanting to laugh at how easy his room mate, and closet friend had just made that all look.

It took both Sherlock and John three weeks to get back to London, as a very interesting murder had taken place just outside Bern - and of course it had captured Sherlock's attention. They decided to make their own way back to Britain, solving murders, kidnappings and unexplained events along the way.

Finally unlocking the door to 221B Baker Street, Sherlock and John walked in laughing about a robbery they had just stopped taking place along the road at an outdoor café.

"Did you see his face?" John managed to say, almost crying with laughter.

Sherlock was unable to reply, holding his stomach as he laughed, and leaned against the wall as they once did before.

"That's the last time he'll try that again near a large group of pigeons, anyway!" he finally chuckled.

They fell about laughing as they remembered how the robber had reacted when Sherlock threw the plate of chips at him, lodging half of them in his hair and jacket, causing the pigeons to start pecking at him like crazy. The man had thrown his hands up into the air, and his girlish screams could be heard at the other end of the park. The police who had shown up were having a hard time arresting him, not just because of the birds that refused to leave him alone, but because they were almost doubled over in laughter.

Making their way upstairs, Mrs Hudson made them a cup of tea - in spite of her insisting that it had previously been a one-off.

"I'm not your housekeeper!" she said, as she passed John a digestive biscuit, smiling despite herself.

* * *

**Comments:**

**stacyharris - **hope you enjoyed it! :D

**Lozzy-heartz-Bookz - **love clues, hehe! hope this was worth the wait! :D

**emptyhandedone - ***excitement* hehe! I was reading the 'Final Problem' just as I started writing this story and I knew how I was going to end it before I'd even gotten to chapter three! :D

**blank - **lol (name). i felt like using the whole switzerland thing was definitely how I was going to end this :D

**egaara - **THANKS! lol I love you for commenting on practically every chapter since the first! You're fab! :D

**DarthJackie - **lol! I couldn't let John go on his own hehe! would've brought Donovan and Anderson but didn't want to make everything seem so coincidental :D

**callietitan - **another shout out! hehe! glad you liked it! hope this was worth the wait! :D

**I hope that everyone thinks that this is a fitting ending to this story and I have definitely enjoyed writing every moment of it! :D Thanks to everyone! **

**Xx**


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